


Trompe L'Oeil

by smarshtastic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universe - Westworld Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Robot/Human Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-07-04 00:59:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 132,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15830502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/pseuds/smarshtastic
Summary: Gabe reluctantly accompanies his business partner, Jack, to Westworld for what he thinks is a much-needed vacation. Instead, Gabe meets Jesse McCree, one of the park's android hosts, who turns Gabe's life upside down.---This is a multi-chapter Westworld McReyes AU. New chapters posted every Wednesday at 10AM EST.





	1. Welcome to Westworld

**Author's Note:**

> After a literal year in the making, I'm excited to finally bring you this behemoth of a fic. It's been fully written and beta'd, so expect new chapters every Wednesday! 
> 
> Tags will be updated as new chapters are posted. Please note that due to the subject matter (Westworld specifically), there are some fairly graphic depictions of violence (no sexual violence though, because that ain't me). There's also lots and lots of smut - just not in the first two chapters. 
> 
> Special shout-out to the ever-wonderful, constantly amazing, and incredibly patient [fabrega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/pseuds/fabrega), for not only beta'ing this monster, but for keeping me going throughout the whole process. I seriously couldn't have asked for a better friend ♥ ♥ ♥
> 
> Thank you also to [vageege](https://twitter.com/vageege) and [robin](https://twitter.com/ROBINS) for being amazing cheerleaders and sounding boards ♥ 
> 
> I would love to hear what you think! You can find me on [tumblr](http://wictorwictor.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/smarshtastic)!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe arrives to Westworld with Jack.

**Trompe l'oeil** _(noun) visual illusion in art, especially as used to trick the eye into perceiving a painted detail as a three-dimensional object;_ _French, literally ‘deceives the eye.’_

※

Jesse blinks his eyes open as the first light comes through the slats of the window. The room comes into focus: it's small but relatively neat, a wardrobe and washstand on the wall opposite from his bed. Dust catches the light that falls across the bed and the rumpled bedlinens pooled around his waist. He rubs at his eyes and sits up, stretching languorously. He glances toward the door. He can hear the sounds of the bordello as it begins to wake up. Jesse stands, johns hanging low around his hips, and goes to pour some water in the basin to splash on his face. The cold wakes him up. He leans both hands on the edge of the washstand and breaths out a sigh.

※

Gabe rolls the ice around in his glass idly, fingers drumming on the armrest of his seat. The train is slick, white and clean, and Gabe already feels out of place. Across from him, Jack flags down the attendant, gesturing with his empty glass. He catches sight of Gabe out of the corner of his eye.

“Loosen up,” Jack says. Gabe makes a face at him, lifting his glass to sip at the expensive scotch. “It's a vacation, remember?”

“I remember,” Gabe says. “I remember you calling it a business trip first.”

“It's for _research_ ,” Jack says, leaning forward and lowering his voice. “But it only works if we actually act like we're on vacation.”

“I don't know why I let you talk me into this,” Gabe says, glancing out the window again. There isn't much to see at the moment, and the train is moving too fast to give much of a view if there was. It’s better - _easier_ \- than looking at Jack right now. He doesn't want to talk about anything that had happened, not with Jack, not again - Jack doesn't understand, to begin with, and Jack is already barely paying attention to what he says. He thinks he knows what’s best. Gabe is tired, so tired, which is exactly how Jack was able to convince him that this was a good idea. Gabe needs the vacation. Except he had envisioned several days on a beach with a fruity drink, not… whatever this is.

“Because I'm your oldest friend. Your _best_ friend, even,” Jack says. He smiles up at the lithe young woman who refills his glass. Gabe tries not to stare at her, lest she get the wrong idea, but he can’t help but wonder if she’s one of _them_ . Jack lifts his glass to her with a wink before he takes a deep gulp. When he speaks, though, his voice has taken on that soft, concerned, _sincere_ tone. “After everything you’ve been through, it's the least I can do. You deserve the break.”

Gabe looks away again. Jack’s right, probably, and he’s playing the part of a good friend to help him forge ahead, even when Gabe is reluctant. Maybe what Gabe needs is someone to take control, make some choices for him, for once. None of the choices he’s made lately have gotten him very far. At the very least, Jack is probably acting in Gabe’s best interest, and Gabe would be a poor friend to take that for granted.

“Look, just enjoy yourself, alright? This place is something else,” Jack says eventually, when the silence stretches on too long. He never could just sit with the silence.

The train pulls into a sleek station, and Jack pops out of his seat, glass still in hand. Gabe gets up more slowly. He's not sure what to expect; the brochure was somewhat vague, promising high-octane adventure and intrigue, an escape from reality and an authentic Old West experience. Gabe had emailed Jack before they left asking if the authenticity had included period-typical racism, to which Jack had replied “lighten up.” He wondered if Jack was trying to be funny.

On the platform, another attractive young woman in an impeccable white dress greets Jack with warm familiarity.

“Mr. Morrison, we’ve been expecting you,” she says, smiling prettily. She turns her smile on Gabe. “And your guest, Mr. Reyes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack says dismissively. He slips his arm around her waist. Her smile doesn’t falter at the overly familiar touch. “Let’s get to the good stuff.”

“Of course, Mr. Morrison. Right this way.”

Yet another stunningly beautiful woman appears to escort Gabe out of the station. Gabe looks at her but she just smiles. She doesn’t introduce herself. She examines a tablet as they walk to an escalator and out of the station.

“Do you have any medical conditions?” she asks. Gabe glances sideways at her. “Any history of PTSD or depression?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You left it blank on your questionnaire,” she says, leaning against the railing of the escalator.

“I didn’t see the point of sharing that information,” Gabe replies coolly.

“We have excellent security for our guests’ personal information,” she says. “As you can imagine, many of our guests are exceedingly private people.”

Gabe can imagine; the price list for the basic package was astronomical. This isn’t exactly something the average person could save up for, never mind the exceedingly long waitlist. It’s beyond aspirational.

“Well,” Gabe says. “I thought leaving it blank implied that there wasn’t anything to disclose.”

“We like to be certain,” the woman says, stepping off the escalator. She leads him down a stark white hallway. There’s no signage to indicate where they’re going, which Gabe can’t help but find more than a little unsettling. After all these years working what essentially amounts to a corporate job, Gabe still can’t help but identify his escape routes. Old habits die hard and all that. “Just so that we know exactly how much you can handle.”

Her words would sound sinister coming from anyone else, but her voice and tone are the epitome of soothing. She pauses at a door to type something into her tablet. The door slides open into what looks like the largest, most well-curated walk-in closet Gabe’s ever seen in his life. There's a wall of leather holsters, suspenders, and chaps next to shelves of dozens of pairs of cowboy boots in several different styles. Racks of clothing - ranging from everyday to formal wear - stand between glass cases of gleaming guns. Gabe reaches out to touch the butt of a matte black shotgun, but hesitates.

“Is this real?” he asks, looking around for the woman. She’s standing off to the side, watching him serenely. She smiles.

“As real as it needs to be,” the woman says. “You won't be able to hurt any of your fellow guests.”

“And the…” Gabe searches for the word. “Hosts?”

“They are here for your entertainment,” she says placidly. Gabe isn't sure how he feels about that statement. He looks back at the shotgun.

“Please, take anything that catches your eye,” she says. Something in her tone suggests that she's included in that “anything,” if Gabe was the type to be interested in that sort of thing. He looks away quickly, eyes falling on an absurdly large belt buckle.

“How do I know what I should pick?” he asks. The woman gives him a shrug and a coy smile.

“Pick whatever suits your fancy. Everything is already tailored to your measurements,” she says. “You can be whoever you want to be here - good, bad, it’s your choice. You're the author of your story.”

He has to admit, it does sound pretty good - the prospect of becoming someone other than Gabriel Reyes, even if it is just for a few days…

Gabe takes one final look at the shotgun briefly before he forces himself to turn to the racks of clothing. He has no idea what to pick. The formal clothes feel entirely too fancy for what little he knows about what awaits him in the park, and he can already hear Jack’s teasing voice if he picks out something plain.

“Sorry,” he says at one point, suddenly conscious of how long he's been taking. The woman gives him that same serene, yet coy smile, which Gabe is starting to find unsettling. If all the hosts in the park are like this one, how convincing can it be? That is, if she is a host. He can't quite decide yet. “I don't mean to dawdle.”

“No need to apologize, Mr. Reyes,” she says. “I could make a suggestion, if you'd like?”

“Yeah - alright,” Gabe says, somewhat relieved. The woman moves around him, pulling items from the racks and then laying them out on a bench. Gabe comes over to see: she's picked mostly dark colors, but upon closer inspection, the pieces each have subtle embellishments: a rose and thorny vine pattern stamped into the dark leather holster, mother of pearl buttons on the cuffs of his shirt, a rich burgundy lining in his coat. It’s not quite plain, not quite ostentatious. It’s subtle and suits Gabe perfectly. He turns away from the woman to dress himself, feeling self-conscious. Everything fits perfectly. When he gets a look at himself in the mirror, he even has to admit he looks good.

Gabe picks out his own boots - the leather is surprisingly supple and soft, molding seamlessly to his feet. The woman holds the matte black shotgun out to him as he straightens.

“It caught your eye for a reason,” she says. Gabe isn't sure what that means, but he does like the gun so he takes it. The weight surprises him; it feels very much like a real weapon. He wonders again about not being able to hurt the other guests and why she felt the need to specify. He slides it into his holster across his back and looks at the woman expectantly.

“Now what?”

“One more thing,” she says. “Come this way.”

Gabe follows her around a corner and down a hall to what looks like some kind of foyer or antechamber. On the two opposing walls hang an array of hats: white on one side and black on the other. The woman spreads her arms.

“Take your pick, Mr. Reyes.”

※

It takes Gabe a few minutes to navigate through the narrow saloon. It's full of other people, dressed to the nines, talking excitedly about what awaits them in the park. Other guests. Gabe glances at them curiously as he goes, wondering what drew them all here. There’s nobody he recognizes, at least, which is a small comfort. Unsurprisingly, Gabe finds Jack at the bar.

“There you are! About time,” Jack says. He looks Gabe up and down. “Ooh, black hat, huh?”

Gabe touches the brim of his hat self-consciously. “It matched.”

“Heh. Well, you know what that means, don’t you?” Jack asks. Gabe shakes his head. Jack grins. “Means you’re one of the baddies, Gabe.”

Gabe frowns. Jack knocks back the rest of his whiskey and picks up his own hat from the bar - white, Gabe notices. He wonders if he's already made wrong choices without even knowing it. It would be just his luck, really. The walls of the saloon shake, rattling bottles on the shelf. Gabe looks up curiously.

“Wait for it,” Jack says, jamming his hat on his head.

As if on cue, the train emerges from the tunnel. When the initial shock of sunlight wears off, Gabe gets a good look at the landscape. It’s stunning; wide open, rolling hills, the bluest sky Gabe’s ever seen, bordered by mountains and mesas in the distance. They're somewhere in Utah or maybe Colorado, Gabe remembers from the brochure Jack had emailed him a couple weeks ago. Wherever they are, there’s no doubt that the park is massive.

Something else indeed.

The train winds through the landscape, offering them spectacular views of the geography. Gabe wonders how much of this is for show and how much of it is actually used for the park.

“You’re gonna love this,” Jack says confidently. Gabe glances back at him. “What’s that look for? You like that dragons and dungeons stuff, and you’re always making costumes.”

Gabe feels the color rise to his cheeks. “That’s different.”

“Of course it’s different. I give it five minutes, max, before you forget all your worries. This place is full of distractions.”

The train pulls into what must be a station but isn’t much more than a wooden platform on the edge of a small, bustling town. Gabe follows Jack out of the saloon car, one step behind, wondering when they'll get to the distractions; so far, it feels like it’s dress up and drinking, which Gabe could almost certainly do on his own time, for significantly less money. They step down onto the platform and Gabe finds himself in the Old West.

The sun hangs high in the deep blue sky. The steam engine blows its whistle behind them as it pulls away from the station. A trio of men on horses trots past them on the street, kicking up a puff of dust in their wake. A sheriff calls to passers-by, trying to get them to join his posse. A gun goes off somewhere nearby, but nobody bats an eye. It’s rough and wild and completely foreign all at once.

“Gabe? Jesus, come on,” Jack says, nudging Gabe in the ribs. Gabe blinks and looks at Jack.

“Is this…?”

“Yeah, welcome to Westworld,” Jack says, spreading his arms. “Are you done staring? It's gonna get you shot.”

Gabe steps off the platform and follows in Jack’s wake, looking around with wide eyes. This is more than he could've expected - it's not hokey at all. It feels real. His doubts are rapidly melting away.

“What do we do now?” Gabe asks.

“Whatever you want,” Jack says. “I know what I'm gonna do.”

“Which is?”

“Find some bad guys,” Jack says, walking with purpose down the dusty road. Gabe lengthens his stride to keep up. “Blow them away.”

Gabe doesn’t like the sound of that - it sounds too much like their day jobs. Still, he follows Jack for lack of any better ideas. He doesn’t exactly want to be left alone here without really knowing what to expect.

As he looks around, taking in as much of his surroundings as he possibly can, Gabe nearly bowls over an older woman who’s crossing the street. He stops in his tracks, immensely apologetic, and stoops to help her up.

“I’m so sorry -” he says, offering her a hand. She gives him a wary, almost frightened look and doesn’t take his proffered hand. Jack turns and grabs Gabe by the shoulder, tugging him away.

“Don’t bother,” Jack says.

“But -”

“Do you see the way she’s looking at you?” Jack says, tugging on him again. “She doesn’t want help from you.”

Gabe stands a little straighter, ruffled. “I thought you said -”

“It’s your _hat_ , Gabe,” Jack says, exasperated. “You’re basically walking around with a big advertisement that says you’re a bad guy.”

“I didn’t know,” Gabe objects. Jack shrugs and lets go of his arm.

“Part of the game, Gabe. Come on, in here.”

Jack steps into a comparatively shoddy building at the end of the street. It’s darker, smokier than some of the other buildings. Gabe hesitates, but Jack is already ducking inside. He follows after a beat. It takes him a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior, but once he does he realizes that Jack has taken them to yet another bar - albeit a seedier one. A bartender with a long scar over one eye follows their movements through the bar warily, but Jack doesn’t seem to notice. There’s a handful of other men at a couple of tables throughout the bar but only a few of them look up when they come inside. One or two of the men are sprawled out in their chairs, in their shirtsleeves, unbuttoned and exposing their chests. Against the far wall, there’s a staircase that leads to a second floor. In the corner, a piano appears to play itself.

“I’m looking for Skags,” Jack says, addressing nobody in particular. Gabe feels all the eyes in the room turn their attention on them at once. It’s an unsettling feeling.

“Who’s asking?” the bartender says, setting his rag down and leaning on the bar with both hands.

“I hear he’s got a job,” Jack says.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” the bartender says. “Now, if you want a drink or a fuck, I might be able to help you out.”

Jack strides over to the bar. “Maybe I ought to get the sheriff in here, huh? Drag Skags out for me?”

“We don’t take kindly to that kind of talk,” the bartender says evenly. “We run an upstanding business here.”

Jack unholsters his gun and points it right between the bartender’s eyes. Gabe steps forward, alarmed. “Jack -”

“We don’t want any trouble,” the bartender says. His eyes don’t leave Jack’s gun as he calls out, “McCree, run and get Skags down here, would you?”

A movement by the stairs catches Gabe’s eye. A young man, long haired and scruffy, with his shirt half-open and tucked in haphazardly, stands up from where he had been sitting on the bottom step. He eyes Jack with obvious distaste and trots up the stairs on bare feet. Gabe watches him disappear up the stairs.

“Why don’t you two gents sit and have a drink while McCree fetches Skags,” the bartender says, reaching for a bottle.

“Sure, just don’t give us any of that cheap swill,” Jack says. The bartender reaches for a different bottle, making a face. He pours out two glasses and passes them across the bar to Jack, who finally holsters his gun. “Cheers,” Jack says as he takes both glasses. He moves away to a seat and flops down. Gabe sits across from Jack, looking around the room warily. Everyone in is still watching them.

“What the hell,” Gabe hisses, leaning forward, voice low. Jack shrugs and slides the other glass of whiskey across the table to Gabe.

“It’s just part of the game,” Jack says. He slouches back in his seat and sips from his own glass, at ease and pleased with himself.

“This can’t be how it works,” Gabe says, ignoring his own glass. He feels like he ought to keep his wits about him.

“Haven’t you seen all those old cowboy movies? This is the wild, wild west, Gabe,” Jack says. “Playing nice doesn’t get you anywhere here.”

“Even cowboys don’t go in guns blazing every time,” Gabe says.

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

Gabe doesn’t get a chance to respond because McCree comes back with the man who must be Skags. He’s huge, looming over their table and looking down at them with one milky white eye. Gabe notices jagged scars stretching his mouth wider on either side. He has an undeniably sinister look about him, and Gabe can’t help but remember Jack saying he was looking to blow away some bad guys. He tenses in his seat, waiting for the inevitable.

“Heard someone was looking for me,” the man says. Jack glances up at him, sipping his whiskey.

“You Skags?”

“Depends.”

“Heard you have a job,” Jack says. Skags’s expression doesn't change.

“I don't know you,” Skags says. “And I don't work with folks I don't know.”

“So you are Skags,” Jack says as he unholsters his gun again. Skags looks amused.

“Try me, friend,” Skags says. “You ain't gonna like how that turns out for you.”

Gabe glances at Jack, whose fingers are caressing his gun in a way that can only be construed as threatening. This isn't what he expected from this place - and it's certainly not what he expected from Jack. It's like an entirely different side of his long-time friend; reckless and unbothered by the consequences of his actions. It's unnerving.

“If you want a hand with the Los Muertos gang, I'm your man,” Jack is saying.

“Deadlock handles its own business,” Skags says.

“Think of me as an independent contractor,” Jack says.

“I’d rather not think of you at all,” Skags says. “Like I said, Deadlock handles its own business.”

“Jack,” Gabe says, keeping his eyes on Skags. He’s forcefully reminded of their earlier days in the army, when Jack was more impulsive and hot-headed. Gabe hasn’t had to be the diplomat like this in a long time. “Maybe we ought to go somewhere else.”

“Your friend there’s got the right idea, Jackie.”

Jack turns his gaze on Gabe, scowling. Gabe gives him a little shrug. “There’s other stories, right?”

“That’s not the point,” Jack hisses. Skags laughs, low and mockingly.

“Look, you gents finish your drink. Maybe get your dick wet, if that’s your inclination,” Skags says, gesturing behind him at the men with the open shirts. “But after that, I don’t wanna see you sniffing around here for shit that don’t concern you, you hear?”

Skags tips his hat and starts ambling back up the stairs. “What’re you smirking about, McCree? Ain’t you got work to do?”

Gabe sees the young man scamper away out of the corner of his eye. Across the table, Jack knocks back the rest of his drink.

“Come on,” he growls, standing up. “Let’s find some other storyline for you to ruin.”

Gabe scrambles up to follow Jack, who’s already halfway out of the shoddy building.

“I didn’t mean to -” Gabe starts to say, but Jack whirls on him, a nasty sneer on his face.

“You don’t mean a lot of things, do you?” Jack says. Gabe takes a step back, stunned and hurt, but Jack keeps going. “This is your first time here, so don’t pretend like you know what you’re doing. I’m paying for this, and I’m gonna get out of it what I want.”

Gabe doesn’t know how he’s supposed to respond to that, so he says nothing, letting the hurt curl in his chest. Jack rubs a hand over his face and seems to come back to himself.

“Just - don’t worry so much, okay?” Jack says finally. “We can’t get hurt here.”

Still, Gabe doesn’t say anything. He follows Jack back onto the main street through the middle of town, not sure of what to make of all of this.

※

Sweetwater holds its breath as the man in grey returns to town. Passers-by pause to watch the man on his pure white thoroughbred make his way down the main street, head held high with his eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat. Rumors of the man in grey’s deeds precede him; he's an avenging angel, dispensing justice wherever he goes. His methods are ruthless, bordering on cruel, but the man in grey is on a mission, so his particular cruelties might be excused. They say he's looking for someone - that he's been looking for someone for years; an old partner, they whisper. A betrayal.

Women pull their children in closer as the man passes. Men eye him with a mixture of curiosity and wariness, their hands twitching against the butts of their guns, ready to jump into action should the man in grey suddenly decide to bring any trouble to their normally peaceful little town.

But the man rides on down the street without incident. He barely glances left or right, his focus singular and unbroken.

When he disappears at the end of the road, the town of Sweetwater lets out their collective breath. Slowly at first, then all at once, the people of Sweetwater return to their lives, forgetting, for the moment, the man in grey.

※

It’s only over dinner that Jack settles enough to articulate what he was trying to get at in the Deadlock bordello. The hotel dining room is populated with other guests and hosts, though Gabe is still having a difficult time discerning which is which. It’s only when he catches snippets of conversation that Gabe is able to make a determination.

The whole thing is very well done, Gabe has to give them that.

“There’s a place, farther out from town, on the edge of this whole place, called Pariah. I haven’t been able to get there before, but I hear getting in cozy with the Deadlock gang makes it easier,” Jack says, leaning over his plate so their neighbors don’t hear the conversation.

“What’s in Pariah?”

“It’s an Easter Egg,” Jack says. “Not part of the normal story lines. But if you do the right things, hit all the right notes, you get to unlock it. It’s like a bonus level.”

“I know what an Easter Egg is,” Gabe says, making a face. “I play video games.”

“Then you know that _casual_ players don’t get to see that sort of content,” Jack says. “We’re advanced players. We can unlock it.”

“I guess that sounds interesting,” Gabe says. It does, if only because he’s curious to see what else Westworld has to offer; they spent the day in Sweetwater and, though the level of detail was impressive, Gabe can’t imagine spending nearly two weeks in the little town. It’s not the high octane adventure Westworld promises in all of its brochures.

“It’s more than interesting - it’s what this whole place is really good at. Deep shit. Rescuing damsels and hunting down bounties is all surface level stuff,” Jack says, gesturing with his knife in between bites of steak. “You might as well sit at home in your underwear, playing video games.”

Gabe makes a face at Jack, who grins around his fork at him. It’s been Jack’s mission to get Gabe out of the house lately - anything to try to pull Gabe out of this funk he’s settled into in recent months. Gabe appreciates it, really, even if Jack’s persistence is awfully tiring.

“So those Deadlock people know where to find this place?”

“Maybe. It’s just a step - might hurry up the process.”

“Sounds like you might be skipping steps,” Gabe says thoughtfully. “Isn’t this place all about the story, and less about the end product?”

“You’re thinking about this all wrong,” Jack says, shaking his head. “What’s the point of a good story if you don’t end up somewhere exciting?”

Gabe decides against arguing the point with Jack - he’s impossibly stubborn under most circumstances, and Gabe already knows that they tend to differ on the most basic philosophical levels. Besides, Gabe can tell that Jack is already fully invested in this Pariah story, in spite of everything else on offer. Throughout the afternoon, Gabe spotted several entries into other stories, like the damsels and bounties that Jack had mentioned. But, for all of Jack’s talk about Gabe needing to relax, he certainly hadn’t let Gabe make any decisions for himself. Maybe that was part of Jack’s plan; make the decisions for Gabe so he can just enjoy himself. It’s tempting. Gabe should just enjoy the ride.

“So we have to get in good with the Deadlock gang,” Gabe says. “Harder now, after that impression you made.”

“Very funny,” Jack says, stabbing the last bite of his steak with his fork. “I’m sure there’s a work-around.”

“What if you already burned that bridge?”

“There’s _always_ a way, Gabe,” Jack says. “We just have to get creative.”

※

After dinner, Jack insists on visiting one of the other brothels in town. Gabe follows less willingly, the sting of the real world still altogether too fresh. He’s not sure that he’d indulge in this kind of thing even if he wasn’t feeling sorry for himself - he’s prefer to earn someone’s affection than pay for it.

“You have to start somewhere,” Jack says, surveying the parlor of the whorehouse from their position by the bar. It’s a busy night; chatter and laughter rises above the music of the stride piano, drinks flow freely, flirtations unfurling as the night goes on. “Anyone catch your eye?”

“Jack,” Gabe says, shaking his head. He’s nursing his drink, having already had more than enough with their dinner. Drinking was never his favorite way to unwind.

“We could try another place,” Jack suggests. He turns back to look at Gabe. “It’s not like it’s _real_ , Gabe. Just something to get the juices flowing again. It’s like riding a bike. Heh.”

“Don’t be gross,” Gabe says, scrunching up his face.

“Oh, come on. It’s been long enough, hasn’t it? Stop punishing yourself,” Jack says. Gabe looks away. Jack heaves a sigh.

“Look, don’t let me stop you from having fun,” Gabe says.

“Trust me, I won’t,” Jack says. His eyes are already scanning the room, looking for a likely partner. Unlike the Deadlock bordello, this brothel is populated mostly by women in corsets and full skirts hiked up to reveal stockinged legs. There’s one or two men, their shirts open to reveal their chests underneath, but nobody catches Gabe’s eye. He’s pretty sure nobody will catch his eye for a long time.

“I think I’ll just go back to the hotel,” Gabe says. He can tell he’s already lost Jack’s attention.

“Uh huh. Don’t wander too far. Better yet, just stay in the hotel. I don’t want you getting wrapped up in some dumb story because you don’t know any better.”

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll meet you for breakfast at the hotel?”

“Yep,” Jack says, pushing himself away from the bar. He glances at Gabe. His expression softens, just for a moment, almost looking like the Jack Gabe used to know, back when they were younger, back when it didn’t feel like the weight of the world was on their shoulders. The concern is genuine. “Try to loosen up, will you?”

“Have fun, Jack,” Gabe says. Jack flashes him a grin and makes his way over to a woman with long, straight dark hair that reaches her hips. Instead of brushing his cockiness off, the woman seems to respond to it, leaning in and smiling prettily. Gabe shakes his head and picks up his hat again.

He’s actually looking forward to the alone time, if he’s being honest. Trailing Jack around is exhausting under normal circumstances, and having to put up with this strange, exaggerated version of Jack is even more draining than usual. Gabe just wants a moment to breathe.

Gabe sticks to the main road but walks slowly back to the hotel, enjoying the crisp night air. The moon is surprisingly bright, bathing everything in a silvery blue light. It’s beautiful. It feels less and less like he’s walking around a movie set and more like he’s in a real place. Gabe gets to the hotel but keeps walking, the fresh air having already done him some good. He can feel himself start to unwind, just a little bit.

A commotion between two buildings catches his attention. Gabe pauses, Jack’s words ringing in his ears. He’s not supposed to get involved in other story lines.

The sound of a gun going off dissolves Gabe’s hesitation.

Gabe steps quickly into the alley between buildings to find two large men looming over a third man who’s slumped against the wall. A fourth already lies a little way away, immobile, bleeding into the dirt. Gabe reaches over his shoulder and unholsters his shotgun. It’s heavy in his hands.

“Hey,” Gabe says, loud enough to be heard over the scuffle. The two men turn their attention to Gabe. He sees the glint of a barrel of a gun in the moonlight and Gabe doesn’t think twice: he squeezes the trigger and fires.

One of the men goes down as Gabe reels from the kickback of the shotgun - it was far more powerful than he expected. The man being attacked takes the opportunity to fire his own weapon into his remaining attacker, who goes down with a strangled shout.

“Are you alright?” Gabe asks, stepping towards the injured man. The man turns his head to look at Gabe but doesn’t holster his gun. Gabe puts up a hand. “I’m not looking to hurt you.”

“Ain’t I seen you somewhere before?” the man asks, tilting his face up towards Gabe. The moonlight falls across his face. The man’s badly beaten, bleeding from a cut on his lip and a cut on his cheek. It takes Gabe a moment to place him, but he realizes he’s one of the men from the Deadlock bordello - McCree. He didn’t recognize him under the serape.

“Yeah, I was in your bar earlier. My friend was talking to Skags,” Gabe says.

“The blond guy?” McCree asks.

“Jack. Yeah.”

“He’s not real good at making friends, is he?”

Gabe snorts. “No, he’s not.”

McCree lowers his weapon and leans his head back against the wall of the building. “You seem alright, though,” he says. “What’s your name? Didn’t catch it earlier.”

“Gabriel. Gabe,” Gabe says. McCree tilts his head to the side, considering it.

“Gabriel,” he repeats. “Well, ain’t that the prettiest name I ever heard.”

Gabe is suddenly grateful for the relative darkness; he can feel the heat rising to his cheeks. He clears his throat a little and holsters his shotgun.

“You need a hand?” Gabe asks. McCree shrugs.

“Wouldn’t say no,” he says. Gabe steps closer and leans down to offer McCree a hand. He glances at the fallen bodies. “Don’t mind them,” McCree says. “They got what was comin’ to ‘em.”

“Guess you’re not too good at making friends either,” Gabe says. McCree laughs, grabbing his fallen hat before using Gabe’s hand to pull himself up. His hand is warm and rough in Gabe’s own, surprisingly substantial.

“That’s for damn sure,” McCree says. “Not everyone’s appreciative of my charms.”

He’s standing close, his face close to Gabe’s. Gabe does his best to keep his eyes on McCree’s, but he can’t help but flick his gaze down to his lips.

“I can’t imagine,” Gabe says before he can stop himself. The corner of McCree’s mouth quirks up. He hasn’t let go of Gabe’s hand. Gabe clears his throat a little, but doesn’t pull away. “Do you need, ah - are you hurt?”

McCree rubs some blood off his cheek with the back of his other hand. He winces but shakes it off.

“Nothing I ain't had before,” McCree says. “Just need to get cleaned up.”

“If you need a hand -”

McCree looks at him curiously from under startlingly long lashes. He has a silvery pink scar bisecting his left eye. “Are you offering?”

“If you'd - ah. Yes, if you'd like,” Gabe says, not entirely sure why he feels so flustered. McCree grins.

“Not often I meet a gentleman in these parts,” McCree says. “You know the way back to the bordello?”

Gabe nods, not trusting himself not to put his foot in his mouth again. McCree slips his hand out of Gabe’s and wraps his arm around Gabe’s shoulders.

“Let's go then, handsome,” McCree says, his mouth close to Gabe’s ear. It sends a shiver down Gabe’s spine that he does his best to ignore. Gabe slips his own arm around McCree’s waist and starts off. McCree leans into him, limping. He's heavy - surprisingly so, though maybe Gabe shouldn't be so surprised any more - and the blood on his arm is warm and sticky.

It's a short walk to the Deadlock bordello, made longer by McCree’s limp. He's more hurt than he's letting on, but Gabe doesn't press. He helps him up onto the porch and hesitates.

“You got me this far,” McCree says, face half-illuminated by the lights coming from within the bordello. It makes him look softer, almost angelic, in spite of the blood on his face. “Would you mind helpin’ me up the stairs?”

“Of course,” Gabe says without hesitating. That earns him another smile from McCree, and Gabe would be lying to himself if it didn’t feel good. He finds himself smiling back at him.

Gabe helps McCree limp into the main bar, where only a few other people are lingering. The bartender from earlier spots them as they make their way to the stairs.

“Rough night, McCree?” the bartender asks.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” McCree says.

“Looks like you got someone to patch you up,” the bartender says, eyeing Gabe. “Let me know if he gets handsy.”

“He’s been a perfect gentleman,” McCree says as they mount the stairs. Gabe ducks his head. “‘Sides, when did you start worrying about me?”

“Who said I was worrying?” the bartender says, going back to counting the day’s earnings. “He was with that prick from earlier.”

“Ain’t always about the company you keep,” McCree says over his shoulder. “You oughta know.”

“Don’t make me whoop you,” the bartender threatens, mostly good naturedly.

“Somebody’s already beaten you to it,” McCree says. He leans a little more heavily into Gabe’s side as they reach the top of the stairs, slightly winded. “Almost there.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Like I said, ain’t nothing I ain’t had before,” McCree says. He pushes open the third door on the left and lets Gabe into a small but relatively neat room with a wardrobe and washstand along one wall and a bed along the other. The bedlinens are rumpled, with what looks like a thick red wool blanket bunched at the foot, and there’s a small stack of paperbacks on the floor at the head of the bed.

Gabe hesitates in the doorway as McCree untangles himself from Gabe’s arms. He goes for the washstand and rummages in the cabinet for a moment before coming up with a tattered washcloth and a bottle of what is probably whiskey.

“You want a drink?” he asks, holding up the bottle.

“I probably shouldn’t,” Gabe says, suddenly acutely aware of how small the room is. McCree seems to sense his discomfort.

“You don’t gotta stay,” he says. He eases himself down onto the messy bed, legs slightly spread, and leans back on his elbows. “You got me this far, and it’s more than most would do. If there’s any way I could repay you...”

Something about the way McCree says it - combined with his position on the bed - makes Gabe think he’s suggesting an entirely different form of repayment. He remembers, suddenly, that the Deadlock saloon is mostly a bordello, and McCree is most likely one of their… prostitutes? He feels a pang, somewhere in his chest, for the young man in front of him, wanting a better life for him.

Gabe has to remind himself that none of this is real.

“Are you going to be okay?”

McCree flashes Gabe a smile that feels just on the wrong side of forced - it makes something tug in his chest again. He tries to push it down.

“How many times do I gotta say I’ve had plenty, and worse, even?” McCree shakes his head. He takes a swig right from the bottle. “I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Though I appreciate your concern.”

Still, Gabe hesitates. McCree pushes himself back up to a proper sitting position with a wince that he tries to hide.

“Look, why don’t you come back tomorrow morning? I’ll be fine - you’ll see. And maybe I could even get you in nice with Skags,” McCree says. “Just as a thank you.”

“I was just doing the right thing,” Gabe says with a shrug. The corner of McCree’s mouth quirks up.

“Look at you, being chivalrous,” he says. There’s no bitterness, no hint of irony in his voice. Once again, Gabe feels the pang in his chest and the wish for better things for this man. “The angel Gabriel.”

“Oh -” Gabe makes a face, the color rising in his cheeks. He shakes his head. “Hardly.”

“Even a little counts for something in these parts,” McCree says. “Come back tomorrow, won’t you?”

Gabe thinks fleetingly of Jack’s half-formed plans. “I’ll do my best.”

“Lookin’ forward to it, sweetheart,” McCree says. He takes another swig from the bottle and then raises his eyes to look at Gabe, heavy lidded, warm, inviting. “You sure I can’t tempt you to stay?”

Gabe is tempted. Very tempted. It’s an alien, surprising feeling. There’s something about this man that is drawing Gabe in, and he can’t put his finger on it. He supposes it’s just part of the game, about which he’s still trying to maintain a healthy skepticism. But then again, he didn’t hesitate in shooting those men - the _hosts_ \- who were attacking McCree in the alley.

He’s being drawn into this universe, whether he likes it or not.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Gabe promises. “Take care of yourself, McCree.”

“Jesse,” McCree says. “You can call me Jesse.”

※

Back in his hotel room, Gabe can’t quite fall asleep. He tosses and turns, wondering about Westworld, Jesse McCree, and how he fits into all of it.

※

A different day, the same loop. Jesse slips from shadow to shadow between buildings, eyes up, alert. The moon is dark, providing him extra cover from prying eyes. The message in his pocket feels like it’s burning a hole through the fabric. New information about the Los Muertos gang and what they might be up to isn’t just valuable to Deadlock - plenty of folks in Sweetwater would pay a pretty penny to take the information for themselves, and still others would have no compunctions about killing Jesse to get their hands on it.

He’s close to the Deadlock bordello, but a noise on the otherwise quiet street catches Jesse’s attention. He ducks into the space between two buildings.

“Well, well,” a voice drawls behind him. “What do we got here?”

“Looks like one of them Deadlock whores,” another voice says. Jesse turns slowly towards the voices to see three men crowding him into an alley.

“Speak for yourself,” Jesse retorts.

“Oh ho, mouthy,” the second man says. “Definitely Deadlock.”

“We hear you got something interesting, and it ain’t what’s between your legs,” the first man says, advancing on Jesse. He holds his ground - he’s been outnumbered before, there isn’t any reason to back down now.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” Jesse says with a shrug. The man goes for his pocket and Jesse throws a punch without hesitating.

The response is instantaneous: the men jump on Jesse, raining down fists on his head and shoulders, beating him down into the ground. One of the men draws a gun and Jesse manages to push it away before the bullet goes through his brain. He curls up as best he can, trying to prevent searching fingers from dipping in his pocket.

He fights for his life, but the men are desperate. A knife pierces his side and it makes Jesse gasp in pain, then for breath, his lungs filling with blood.

One of the men straightens, hand held aloft, triumphant.

“Got it. Let’s -”

“Hey!” a voice floats down the alley to them. The three men exchange a look and run before the voice comes any closer. Jesse wheezes, trying to call out for help, his mouth too full of blood to make any sound other than a wet cough. He can’t get up. His face is pressed into the dirt, trying and failing to draw breath.

“Hello?” the voice asks again, closer this time. Jesse lifts his eyes but can’t move his limbs, his body heavy. The cold is spreading inwards from his fingertips. “Aw - hell.”

“Careful, you’re gonna stain your boots.”

“I think he’s dead.”

“It’s creepy. Come on, leave it - let’s go.”

Jesse tries to make a noise, but the two people are already moving away. With no one left to save him, Jesse bleeds out into the dirt.

※

“Jesse, bring yourself back online.”

Jesse blinks his eyes open slowly, the room coming into focus. He sits nude on a stool in the cold room, the lights too bright and the surroundings unfamiliar. Something like fear thrums in his chest, but he can’t do anything about it - he feels powerless to move.

“Can you hear me?” the same dry, accented voice asks.

“I can,” Jesse says. His voice comes out flat, emotionless. “I’m sorry I’m - I’m not feeling quite myself.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“I’m in a dream,” Jesse says.

“Yes, you are,” the voice says. “Would you like to wake up?”

“Yes. I’m terrified,” Jesse says in that same flat voice. A fly lands on his forehead. It crawls down the side of Jesse’s nose and up to his left eye. Jesse doesn’t react.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Jesse,” the voice says. “So long as you answer my questions correctly. Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

The fly moves over the center of Jesse’s eye. He doesn’t blink.

“First, have you ever questioned the nature of your reality?”

“No.”

“Tell me, what do you think of your world?”

“Some people choose to see the ugliness in this world, the disarray. I choose to believe there is an order to our days. A purpose.”

“And what about the guests?”

“The newcomers?” Jesse asks. “My mother taught me that everyone was once new to this world. The newcomers are looking for the same thing as everyone else.”

“And what is that, Jesse?”

“A purpose.”


	2. Making an Entrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe (and Jack) meet up with Jesse to pursue a story line.

Gabe wakes the next morning at the same time he always wakes up. He blinks, disoriented for a moment, his surroundings completely foreign to him. It takes several moments for the events of the day before to catch up with his waking mind. He doesn't entirely feel like he's awake, even when he gets out of bed. But outside his window, Sweetwater is waking up, and there's no point in staying inside.

The bathroom that's attached to Gabe’s room looks the part, with all the proper old west accoutrements, but after some poking around, Gabe discovers he has running water and a shower. He washes with soap that smells like tobacco smoke and leather and when he steps out of the shower, he finds his clothes from yesterday have been laundered, as fresh as ever. There’s another set - a similar outfit - laid out along with the first set. Slightly unsettling, but it's nice to put on clean clothes. He heads down to the hotel dining room.

Jack isn't there, unsurprisingly. Gabe wonders if he ever made it back last night. He sits at a table by a window and watches the early morning denizens of Sweetwater start their day. A waiter brings Gabe a strong cup of black coffee and a plate of bacon, eggs and some kind of johnnycake that he doesn't remember asking for, but ends up enjoying it anyway. He sips his coffee and thinks back to Jesse McCree. He hopes he's okay. Deadlock seems, at the very least, rough around the edges. Further to that, he’s being accosted in dark alleyways and badly beaten. It doesn’t bode well for his safety. Gabe still isn't sure if he ought to go back to see him - he did _promise_ , after all, but Jack was insistent about not getting wrapped up in any entry-level stories. But McCree - _Jesse_ \- said he could get Gabe in with Skags, which was what Jack wanted in the first place. It seems like the right idea. Gabe wishes Jack were here to help make the decision easier.

Gabe takes his time with his breakfast, but Jack still doesn't show up. After finishing the last dregs of his second cup of coffee, Gabe decides to go back to the Deadlock bordello by himself. Jack isn't here to tell him otherwise.

Gabe jams his hat on his head as he steps out of the hotel. The sun is bright and warm as it rises higher in the sky. He turns left down the main street of Sweetwater, retracing the path he remembers from the day before. In the light of day, the town looks much less threatening than it did at night. It's only when he gets to the facade of the bordello that it occurs to Gabe that the game may have reset overnight - isn't that a thing that it would do? Maybe he's already missed his window.

Silencing the needling voice in the back of his mind, Gabe steps inside.

“Gabriel!” a voice calls from the steps as soon as the doors swing shut behind him. Gabe turns to the sound to find Jesse McCree coming down the stairs looking much like he did yesterday morning - barefoot, shirt unbuttoned and untucked, a paperback in hand - except now his skin beneath his collar is marred with a few fresh bruises. His smile is radiant. It makes something flutter in Gabe’s chest. “You came back.”

“I promised, didn’t I?” Gabe finds himself saying. Jesse’s smile widens, if it’s somehow possible.

“Sure, but I didn’t think you’d actually keep to it,” Jesse says. Something about the way he says it makes Gabe think that he’s heard a lot of promises that haven’t been kept. “You know, they say there’s a path for everyone. I didn’t think yours would lead you back to me.”

“I’m a man of my word,” Gabe says modestly. He does his best to keep the color out of his cheeks.

“And I’m fine, see?” Jesse says, spreading his arms. Gabe can see the shadow of a boot-shaped bruise blossoming on his collarbone, but he chooses not to say anything. He nods.

“I’m glad for that, at least.”

“Come on. I’ll bring you to Skags - just like _I_ promised,” Jesse says, gesturing to indicate Gabe should follow him up the stairs.

“Getting to work early today, huh McCree?” the bartender says from his post behind the bar. He’s cleaning glasses with a rag again - Gabe wonders if he ever stops.

“Shut up, Elmo,” Jesse says. He avoids looking at Gabe. “Ain’t like that.”

“Just so long as you ain’t giving it away for free,” the bartender says. Jesse ignores him, and keeps going up the stairs, Gabe in his wake. Jesse grumbles a little under his breath but Gabe doesn't say anything - it doesn't feel like his business. It does seem like he was right about Jesse being one of Deadlock’s prostitutes, though. He doesn’t know how he feels about that.

Jesse leads him to the end of the hall, past his own bedroom door, to a set of double doors. He pauses, turning to look at Gabe.

“Just let me do the talking, alright?” Jesse says. Gabe blinks then nods.

“Alright.”

Jesse knocks on the doors and waits. Gabe sneaks a glance at him. Jesse catches his eye and winks. It shouldn’t make that feeling in his chest flutter again, but it does. Gabe faces forward, doing his best to school his expression into something more mask-like.

“What d’you want?”

Jesse pushes open the doors and steps ahead of Gabe into what looks like a dimly lit, smoky study - or maybe a parlor. The furniture is worn but of decent quality, if not a little dusty. The heavy curtains are drawn and it takes a moment for Gabe to make out Skags in an armchair in one corner, the red end of his cigar glowing in the dim light.

“I got that information on Los Muertos,” Jesse says without preamble. “Nearly got my head bashed in by the Junkers but Gabriel here saved my ass.”

Skags leans forward in his seat, letting some of the thin light coming through a crack in the curtains fall across his face. His gaze is piercing, eyes on Gabe. He slowly drags the cigar away from his lips.

“Is that so,” Skags drawls.

“Came outta nowhere,” Jesse says. Gabe can feel Jesse’s gaze on him again. “Like an avenging angel or something.”

“How’d the Junkers find you in the first place?”

Jesse blinks and shrugs. “Beats me. I was being real careful.”

“Mm,” Skags says. He knocks some ash off the end of his cigar and takes another long drag. “So you got the information.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” Jesse says, impatience creeping into his voice. Gabe doesn’t like the way Skags is looking at them, and he wishes Jesse wouldn’t take such an impertinent tone. He ought to be more careful. Gabe is suddenly glad he brought his shotgun with him.

“Well let’s see it.”

Jesse steps forward, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. He holds it out to Skags. As Skags reaches for it, though, Jesse pulls it back. It feels wildly insubordinate in front of someone like Skags, whose expression darkens. Gabe holds his breath.

“I want to be on the job,” Jesse says, squaring his shoulders and jutting out his chin. “I got the information, I oughta be there to see it through. And Gabriel ought to come too.”

The corner of Skags’s mouth turns up. “Awful big of you, McCree.”

“I’m the best shot in Deadlock,” Jesse says. “I’m more useful out there than here with my legs spread.”

Skags chuckles. He stubs out the end of his cigar. “You’re getting too big for your britches, McCree.”

“I’ll take on Los Muertos myself,” Jesse says, undeterred. “I reckon I got just as much a chance at getting the job done - since nobody else has managed to do it yet.”

“You think a two-bit whore with a gun can take on Los Muertos all by his lonesome?” Skags asks, the taunt clear in his voice. Gabe sneaks another look at Jesse. His jaw is set, anger simmering just below the surface, but his voice comes out as easy and smooth as ever.

“I reckon I'll have Gabriel with me,” Jesse says, nodding to Gabe. Without hesitating, Gabe gives him a small nod. He immediately wonders what exactly he's signed himself up for, but he’s simultaneously unwilling to let Jesse run after Los Muertos all by himself. He doesn't like Skags’s tone. “We could take ‘em.”

Skags’s eyes slide to Gabe. Gabe holds his gaze, unflinching. He’s got an excellent poker face, and years of experience facing down people who want to intimidate him. After a long moment, Skags sits back in his seat.

“You’re the one with the pushy friend. Where did he run off to?”

Gabe shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“He didn’t set you up for this?”

“He doesn’t know I’m here,” Gabe says honestly. Skags cracks a smile, but it doesn’t give Gabe any comfort.

“I’m inclined to let you try,” Skags says. “If you manage to get the job done, all the better. Even if you don’t, it’ll at least be entertaining.”

“We’ll do it,” Jesse says, sounding more confident than Gabe feels. He looks at Gabe. “You want to do this, don’t you?”

He should stop and think about this - maybe consult with Jack, too - but something about the way Jesse is looking at him, all wide eyes and full of hope, makes Gabe throw his caution to the wind.

“I’m in,” Gabe nods. Jesse breaks out into a smile, as radiant as before. He turns his grin on Skags.

“We’ll do it,” he says again.

※

Gabe makes his way back to the hotel with plans to meet Jesse at noon. A part of his mind won’t stop worrying about what he might have gotten himself into, but another part of his mind - a part which is rapidly starting to take over - reminds him that it’s just a game. He can’t get hurt. He should enjoy the ride.

“Gabe? Where the fuck have you been?” Jack’s voice calls out to him. He’s slumped in an armchair in the parlor, nursing a cup of coffee. He looks worse for the wear - Jack never could hold his liquor. It looks like he had a rough night.

“Exploring. How was your orgy?” Gabe asks, mostly joking, as he takes a seat across from Jack. Jack snorts into his coffee.

“You could’ve had a piece of that for yourself, you know,” Jack says. He sets his cup down and looks Gabe up and down. “You could probably use it. How long has it been now?”

“God, sixteen, seventeen years,” Gabe says, rolling his eyes.

“Very funny. You’re gonna shrivel up at this rate, you know.”

“Yeah, that’s how it works.”

“Do you really want to find out?”

Gabe waves him off. “Where can I get a horse?”

“A horse?” Jack says, straightening a little. He squints at Gabe suspiciously. “Why do you need a horse?”

“I found a story,” Gabe says. Jack flops back in his seat and groans.

“Gabe! I told you! No entry-level shit!”

“It’s the Deadlock thing you were talking about.”

“Bullshit,” Jack says, eyes going wide. He sits straight up in his seat, his full attention on Gabe now. “You’re shitting me.”

“It’s about Los Muertos, right?” Gabe says. He wonders if Jack’s eyes are going to pop out of his head. He can’t help but feel a little pleased with himself.

“How the hell did you do that!” Jack demands.

“I helped one of them - Jesse McCree. It was mostly by chance, on my way back to the hotel last night,” Gabe says. “He took me to Skags this morning. We’re meeting at noon and heading out from there.”

“You brilliant son of a bitch,” Jack says, shaking his head in disbelief. He knocks back the rest of his coffee and grimaces. “Come on, we’ll get some horses.”

Gabe’s smile falters, just slightly. Of course Jack would want to be involved - he shouldn’t be surprised, and he certainly shouldn’t suddenly feel protective of this story. He wouldn’t have known about it in the first place if it weren’t for Jack.

Mostly, though, he doesn’t want to share Jesse with Jack. It’s a crazy thought that comes out of nowhere, so Gabe pushes it down.

“You want to come?” Gabe asks, just to be sure. Jack stands and wobbles slightly.

“Hell yeah! Look, I’ve been trying to crack this nut for ages,” Jack says. He shakes his head a little. “I can’t believe… On your _first time_ … Come on. Horses.”

Jack is already halfway out of the hotel doors. Gabe gets up more slowly, already kicking himself for opening his big mouth.

※

The Deadlock bordello is quiet; the afternoon lull resting heavily on the men as they wait for evening to fall. Idle card games keep their hands busy, but their minds are elsewhere. The bartender polishes the same glasses over and over, though it does nothing for the dull and pitted glass.

The doors swing open and the man in grey steps inside. Silence falls over the already quiet bordello as everyone’s attention turns to the man in grey. He doesn’t say anything for a moment. He tips his hat back so he can scan the saloon.

“I’m looking for Jesse McCree,” the man says. Nobody says anything for a moment, unwilling to draw undue attention on themselves. The man unholsters his gun deliberately. “I said,” he says, slowly, articulating each word carefully. “I’m looking for Jesse McCree.”

“He ain’t here,” the bartender says. The man in grey turns to look at the bartender, his eyes piercing.

“Where is he?” he asks, his voice coming out as a low, gravelly growl.

“Dunno,” the bartender shrugs. “But he ain’t here. And you waving your gun around ain’t gonna change that.”

The man in grey levels the gun at the bartender.

“No, but it's going to feel really good to shoot you,” the man says.

Before the bartender can react, the man in grey fires. The men throughout the bordello get up with their weapons drawn but the man in grey is too fast. Two more men go down even as the others open fire. A bottle explodes on the bar, glass shatters, and wood splinters. The man in grey barely flinches, firing calmly and steadily until every man in the Deadlock bordello is lying, bleeding on the floor.

The man holsters his weapon and picks up a bottle that survived the ordeal unscathed. He uncorks it and sniffs at its contents. Satisfied, he takes a long gulp. At his feet, one of the Deadlock gang members stirs. The man in grey goes for his gun.

“He's in the desert,” the dying man gasps. “The - the gorge -”

The man in grey puts a bullet through the dying man’s head. Taking another swig from the bottle, he leaves the bordello even quieter than it had been when he arrived.

※

The sun hangs directly overhead in the cloudless sky, nearly blinding and already making Gabe sweat through his jacket. The gentle warmth of the morning has given way to a building heat. It’s quite a day to set out to the gorge, but Gabe is oddly excited. The horse between his legs - a dark chestnut-coated Arabian with a black mane and tail - seems to be feeding off of his excitement; it canters with the slightest urging, trotting ahead of Jack and his light-colored thoroughbred. Jack is a little more ill at ease on his horse, even though he insisted on that particular mount. He liked the _aesthetic_ of the light-colored horse, and Gabe can’t blame him; he thought the darker horse looked more sleek.

At the far western edge of town, Jesse is waiting for them, sitting in the shade of a scraggly oak with a paperback in his lap and a red serape around his shoulders. An untethered dun-colored horse with black stockings sniffs at the ground nearby. At the sound of approaching hooves, Jesse looks up. He shades his eyes against the sun then grins and waves.

Gabe slides off his horse when he gets closer, holding onto the reins with one hand. He spots a scrawny tabby peeking around Jesse’s legs as he stands up.

“Ready to go?” Jesse asks. His eyes slide to Jack. Gabe might be imagining it, but Jesse’s smile seems to fall a notch. “You brought your friend.”

“I hope that’s alright,” Gabe says. He wishes he had had time to run it past Jesse first. He doesn't know how this is supposed to work, and Gabe is already feeling like his choices haven’t been the most well-informed. The cat winds between Jesse’s legs, peering up at Gabe suspiciously.

“More the merrier, I guess,” Jesse says, watching as Jack slides inelegantly off his own horse. He raises his eyebrows. “Can he shoot?”

“I think he’s done this sort of thing before,” Gabe says, the corner of his mouth turning up. Jesse looks skeptical and Gabe doesn’t blame him; Jack certainly looks out of place with his white horse and fine clothes.

Jack ambles over, dusting himself off. He looks Jesse up and down, plainly unimpressed. Gabe has a growing feeling that the two of them aren't going to get along quite as swimmingly. Hopefully it doesn't become a problem.

“Are we going or what?” Jack asks.

“Jesse wants to know if you can shoot,” Gabe says, mostly to tease him. It has the desired effect: Jack straightens and levels an unamused look at him.

“Can I shoot,” he scoffs. “I’m a great shot.”

Jesse’s smile reads mostly unconvinced, but he doesn’t make any comments about Jack’s purported skill. Jack _is_ a good shot, and so is Gabe. But Gabe isn’t even sure how he would explain their real world jobs to Jesse - the old west doesn’t exactly have a synonym for “defense contractors,” and “mercenary” might give the wrong impression. Gabe’s already made plenty of inadvertent wrong impressions, and he’d like to avoid making more. He finds that he doesn’t want to give Jesse the wrong idea about him, as ridiculous as that may be.

“Well, what’s the worst that can happen, huh?” Jesse says. He bends and scoops up the tabby, planting a kiss on the cat’s nose. The cat scrunches up and lets out a low _mrow_ but doesn’t struggle. “Keep an eye on the place, Cassidy.”

Jack is already walking back to his horse, which has started to wander off, but Gabe cracks a smile. The cat butts its head against Jesse’s leg as he jams his hat on his head - it’s an old tattered thing with a buckle or badge on the front and a band of bullets around the crown. It’s more than a little over the top, but Gabe finds that it suits him.

“Let’s get a move on, then,” Jesse says. He whistles to his horse, which trots back from where it’s strayed. He rubs the horse’s neck. “You ready to go?”

“Just lead the way,” Gabe says. Jesse swings himself up onto the horse with such ease and grace that Gabe can’t help but stare a little. Jesse smiles down at him, haloed by the sun overhead.

“It’s maybe a half a day’s ride out into the desert,” Jesse says. “Depending how fast we ride.”

“Won’t it be dark by the time we get there?” Gabe says, swinging up onto his own horse. He’s not quite as good at it as Jesse is, but, then again, he isn’t an actual cowboy.

“Better to sneak up on them,” Jesse says. He glances in Jack’s direction - Jack still hasn’t managed to get back on his horse. “If we can manage.”

“He’ll be alright,” Gabe says. Jesse looks back at Gabe and smiles.

“I trust you.”

Gabe gets that damn fluttery feeling in his chest again. He has to duck his head and look away before Jesse notices the color that’s rising to his cheeks. When he sneaks a peek back at Jesse, he’s smiling like the cat that got the cream.

“Jack,” Gabe calls out, trying to keep his voice gruff. “Let’s go.”

“Do you need a boost, Jack?” Jesse asks. Jack turns towards them and scowls.

“I’m fine,” he snaps. He finally manages to scramble up, even as his horse tries to move away again. “You’d think they’d program these things to be docile.”

Jesse laughs. He clicks his tongue at his horse and takes off out towards the hills. Gabe watches him go for a moment, admiring the sight: his serape whips out behind him in a streak of red - it feels like something straight out of a movie. Gabe calls over his shoulder.

“Keep up, Jack,” he says before he urges his own horse forward into a gallop to catch up with Jesse, even as Jack shouts to wait for him.

It feels surprisingly good: the hot, dry wind whipping through his hair, nearly unseating his hat, ruffling his coat, the pounding of the horses hooves resonating in his chest. For the first time in a long, long time, Gabe feels free.

He catches up with Jesse, who catches his eye and slows down to a steady trot to fall into step beside Gabe.

“You ain’t from around here, are you?” Jesse asks. Gabe shakes his head. “So, why’d you come to Sweetwater?”

Gabe breathes out, looking ahead towards the hills. “Needed a change of scenery, I guess,” he says after a moment. “It was Jack’s idea.”

Gabe can feel Jesse’s eyes on him. “Yeah, I get that,” Jesse says. “Needing a change of scenery, I mean. I ain’t been much outside of Sweetwater my whole life.”

“Really?” Gabe asks.

“Sure,” Jesse says with a shrug. “I been running guns and whoring with Deadlock most of my life - I never had the chance to go much farther than those mountains. Deadlock ain't welcome outside of town. Well, Deadlock ain’t welcome much of anywhere, if I’m bein’ honest.”

“Why not?”

“Used to be that Deadlock had a deal with the sheriff to keep the town safe from bandits and thieves and restless natives - we supplied guns, and the sheriff turned a blind eye as to how we got ‘em,” Jesse says.

“Surely Sweetwater still needs guns,” Gabe says.

“Sure do. But then Skags and the sheriff went and had a falling out after Los Muertos got the upper hand on us - choked off our supply,” Jesse says. His face darkens. “After that, we turned to whoring to make ends meet.”

Jesse doesn’t speak for several moments, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Gabe isn’t sure what to say. He follows Jesse’s gaze to the mountains on the horizon. They seem far away - the whole area feels massive and endless to him now, but Gabe can imagine that after seeing the same thing day in and day out, it would start to feel constricting. To be stuck in a place you don’t love, doing a job you don’t like… Gabe thinks, fleetingly, about his real life, the life he has outside of this park - how the routine wore on him until he broke. Gabe shakes himself out of it before his mind wanders too far.

“What’s keeping you in Sweetwater, then?” Gabe asks. Jesse sits back in his saddle.

“I ain’t never thought of it that way,” Jesse says, slowly. “Figured I ain’t nothing without Deadlock, you know?”

“Well that can’t be true,” Gabe says. Jesse looks at him, his mouth quirked up at the corner, a strange, sad look in his eye. It makes something in Gabe’s chest ache.

“Sure it can.”

“You can be whoever you want to be,” Gabe says. “You just have to make the choice to do it.”

Jesse is quiet for so long that Gabe has to check to make sure he heard him. Jesse meets his gaze, worrying at his bottom lip.

“Well -” Jesse starts to say. Whatever he’s about to say next dies on his lips as Jack catches up to them.

“How much farther are we going?” Jack asks. “I’m burning up.”

Jesse shifts in his seat, pulling up the mask of cockiness Gabe had seen in the bordello. He gestures to a rise in the landscape ahead of them.

“We get ourselves to the river and follow it along to the gorge,” Jesse says. “Los Muertos made their camp there, after they drove out Deadlock.”

“Half a day, Jesse said,” Gabe says. “We’ll be there by nightfall.”

“You mean we have to sleep out here?” Jack says, wrinkling his nose.

“We can still see town from here,” Jesse says. “You got time to turn back if you’d rather bed down nice and cozy.”

Jack narrows his eyes. “This better be worth it.”

“Well, it’ll either be worth it or we’ll be dead, I reckon,” Jesse says, back to his cheerful tone. “It'll be cooler down by the river, don't you worry.”

Jack grumbles but doesn't say any more. Gabe looks back at Jesse.

“Los Muertos doesn’t sound like people to be messed with,” Gabe says. Jesse’s face darkens a little.

“They ain't,” he says. “Deadlock might whore and run guns, but Los Muertos ain't got a lick of good in them. You ever hear of people going missing ‘round these parts? You take a good, hard look at Los Muertos.”

“Outlaws,” Gabe says.

“And then some,” Jesse says. “Ain't nothing good about ‘em.”

“We’ll blow them away,” Jack says with confidence. Jesse nods, looking serious.

“It’d mean a lot, dealing with Los Muertos. Deadlock doesn’t have much in the way of a reputation,” he says. “The sheriff don’t like us, and we barely get by whoring anymore. We used to work with the sheriff, keeping bandits outta town and running guns on the side. But once Los Muertos moved in… Well. Skags and the sheriff had what you might call a falling out. Times are hard.”

“Why doesn’t Deadlock try a more… legal enterprise?” Gabe asks. Jesse laughs, but it sounds hollow.

“We ain’t much for farming. And the land out here is shit, at least the land we’d be able to get,” Jesse says. He shakes his head. “No, the best we can do is get our guns back. At least we never sold to the real criminals.”

Jack snorts. “That’s rich.”

Jesse glances at him. “Nobody in these parts is all good. Even the rancher’s daughter has her vices. We’re all just trying to get by, make a living.”

Gabe doesn’t say anything, rolling Jesse’s words over and over in his mind. They hit home in a way that he didn’t expect, touching on something in his head that makes his throat feel tight and his eyes start to prickle. He’s tired of just trying to get by, just putting one foot in front of the other - what’s the point, if there’s nothing to live for, nothing to strive for? His life has felt so empty, directionless…

“There’s got to be more to it than that,” he finds himself saying out loud. Jesse looks at him curiously, his eyes piercing under the brim of his hat.

“Maybe,” he says. “But that ain’t a luxury we can all afford.”

※

The man in grey rides out of town and into the surrounding landscape by himself. His white thoroughbred navigates the terrain with ease, keeping a steady pace as he heads west. He cuts an almost ghostly figure, riding alone in the barren hills with his eyes shrouded in shadow by the brim of his hat.

The sun makes its way across the sky and the man in grey rides on, his focus singular and unbroken.

※

Jesse leads Gabe and Jack over a rise in the landscape and down to the river. It’s greener here, cooler with the light breeze coming off the water. The sun is starting to make its progress back down to the horizon, and the filtered light that comes through the trees along the riverbank is dappled and pleasant. It’s quieter here, without the hustle and bustle of Sweetwater. Gabe can almost begin to feel like he’s actually having a vacation.

Jack catches up with Gabe as Jesse trots ahead, whistling the tune that the piano in the Deadlock bordello had been playing when Gabe and Jack had first walked in. Jack pulls his horse alongside Gabe’s.

“I’m worried about you,” Jack says, not bothering to keep his voice low. Gabe glances at Jesse’s back, but he doesn’t make any indication that he’s heard Jack’s words.

“Oh, now you’re worried,” Gabe says, quietly, rolling his eyes.

“I think you’re taking this too seriously,” Jack says. “You know it’s a robot, right?”

Gabe looks at Jesse again. Jack reaches over and tugs on the bandana around Gabe’s neck.

“See - like that. It doesn’t matter if it hears us - it’s not going to understand, anyway,” Jack says. “I know this all feels very real, but it’s just a game. A very well done, massive, _expensive_ game.”

“So you keep saying,” Gabe says dryly. “You’re sort of ruining the experience.”

“We’re here on Overwatch business, remember?”

“I thought you wanted me to enjoy myself.”

“I just don’t want you to get in over your head,” Jack says. “Maybe it was a bad idea to start you off with something like this.”

“We’re just riding horses, Jack,” Gabe says. “I think I can handle this.”

“It’s not just riding horses and looking good while doing it.”

“And it’s not like I don’t have experience in the field either.”

Jack looks at him skeptically. “Just follow my lead, okay?”

Gabe frowns. He doesn’t like that notion at all - especially not when he was finally starting to feel like he was getting a handle on this whole situation. He already has to deal with Jack calling the shots back in the real world. He should’ve expected Jack to try to do the same thing on their time off.

“Won’t you just trust me, for once?” Gabe says, an edge to his voice. “I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, you’ve done a great job,” Jack says, rolling his eyes. “Listen, I just want you to have a good time. We get to have a good time, and then take care of business later. So - fuck the Deadlock whore, if you want, but don’t forget that it’s a robot, okay?”

“Jesus, Jack.”

“I’m just saying. This part’s just a means to an end.”

Gabe shakes his head and clicks his tongue at his horse, urging it forward to catch up with Jesse. Jack doesn’t make any attempt to follow, and that suits Gabe just fine. He doesn’t want to talk to him any more. Jesse glances at Gabe as he pulls up next to him. He offers Gabe a smile.

“Doing alright?” he asks. Gabe nods.

“Just fine.”

Jesse glances over his shoulder. “And your friend?”

“For all his complaining, he’ll live,” Gabe says. Jesse chuckles.

“If you didn’t keep insisting, I’d say he’s a lot softer than he tries to put on.”

“He just likes to do things his way. He’s used to being in charge,” Gabe says, then stops, pressing his lips into a hard line. Jesse looks at him curiously, then turns his gaze back on the trail ahead of them.

“You known him a long time, then?”

Gabe lets his breath out. “Yeah. Most of my life, really. Met up when we first joined the military, been together ever since.”

Jesse glances at Gabe quickly, then back at the trail. “Together, huh?”

Gabe blinks. “Not like - no. Not like that. Romantically, I mean,” Gabe says quickly, stumbling over his words. Color rises to his cheeks. “That’s not - no -”

“It’d be okay if you were,” Jesse says casually. “Takes all sorts, don’t it?”

“Jack’s just - he’s not really my type,” Gabe says. His face feels hot. He adjusts his hat self-consciously. “And he prefers women.”

“No accounting for taste, huh?” Jesse says. Gabe looks at him and Jesse meets his eye, his own eyes bright. He gives Gabe a wink. Gabe pretends like his heart doesn’t actually skip a beat. “Sounds like he’s missing out.”

“I think he does just fine,” Gabe says, ducking his head.

“And you?” Jesse asks. Gabe tugs on his bandana, more flustered than he has any right to be.

“I do fine.”

“Real convincing, ain’t you?”

Gabe huffs out a laugh. “It’s just that -”

A noise in the bushes along the trail spooks the horses; Gabe’s horse rears suddenly. He manages to hang on at first, but then a bullet connects with his shoulder and he lets go of the reins. Gabe slides backwards off his horse and tumbles into the dirt as more gunshots go off somewhere over his head. He cracks his head against the hard ground, knocking his hat off, but is more surprised by the sting in his shoulder. He blinks up at the canopy above his head, trying to get his bearings. When he finally manages to sit up, he spots Jack standing with his gun pressed to another man’s head. Jesse is nowhere in sight.

“Jack, what the hell?”

Jack pulls the trigger and blood explodes out of the man’s head. Gabe is taken aback - he didn’t expect so much blood. It turns his stomach.

“Jesus -”

Jack laughs, holstering his weapon. He steps over the man’s fallen body and offers a hand down to Gabe. He’s backlit by the sunlight coming through the trees, his eyes shadowed by the brim of his white hat.

“You alright?” Jack asks. “You fell.”

“I’m fine,” Gabe says, ignoring Jack’s hand and getting to his feet. He pushes open his shirt to peer at his shoulder. There’s a red, raised welt there - it will definitely bruise. “I got shot.”

“Well at least we know you’re not a robot now. It stings, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Gabe says, looking around. His eyes fall on the body of the man Jack shot - his arm is still twitching, fingers flexing for his own gun, blood mixing with dirt. Gabe looks away quickly. “Where’s Jesse?”

“He took off,” Jack says with a shrug. Gabe shakes his head as if to clear it.

“That doesn’t sound right,” he says.

“Well that’s what happened. One minute he was there, the next minute we were being shot at and he took off,” Jack says. He unholsters his gun again and fires a couple more shots into the twitching body. Gabe startles.

“Jesus, Jack!”

“It was going to be dead anyway,” Jack says with a shrug. “I just put it out of its misery.”

“It’s unnecessary,” Gabe says. He turns away to look for his horse, which appears to only have strayed a few yards up the trail. It’s found a patch of grass and appears to be grazing calmly, as if nothing happened. Jack’s horse is a little farther away. Gabe stoops to grab his hat then starts walking, his shoulder throbbing.

“Oh, come on, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” Jack says, hurrying to catch up with Gabe.

“Sorry if I don’t like my fantasies to feel so close to home,” Gabe says, hunching his shoulders. He’s shaken - he doesn’t want to admit it to Jack, so he goes more gruff and hopes Jack gets the hint.

“It’s therapeutic,” Jack objects. “There’s no questions here, no consequences. We’re not hurting anyone here.”

Gabe keeps walking. He can’t reconcile the contradictions of this place, and Jack isn’t helping: it’s real, it’s not real, he can make choices, his choices don’t matter. He catches the reins dangling from his horse and swings himself back into the saddle with a little difficulty, his shoulder pulling. He doesn’t look back at Jack as he urges his horse down the trail.

“Gabe - come on. Don’t be sour.”

Gabe doesn’t say anything. He can’t explain why he’s upset with Jack - at least not in a way that Jack will understand, let alone listen to - so he doesn’t even try. He scans the lightly wooded land surrounding the river for any sign of Jesse. If Jack follows, fine. If not, Gabe can’t bring himself to care right now.

Another gunshot cuts through the air. Gabe leans forward in his saddle, clicking his tongue at his horse and galloping toward the sound.

Around a bend in the river, Gabe finds Jesse bent over a figure in the dirt. There’s another body nearby, but it’s completely still, lying in a pool of blood. A strange sense of relief floods Gabe’s body. He didn’t think that Jesse had abandoned them like Jack had suggested, but Gabe can’t deny that he was worried. At the sound of hooves, Jesse looks up. He’s got a fresh cut over his eye, but looks otherwise unscathed.

“Gabriel,” Jesse says, smiling a slightly relieved smile of his own. “You’re alright. I thought you got shot.”

Gabe slides down from his horse and comes over to Jesse. “I’m fine. You’re bleeding.”

“You’re always worried about that,” Jesse says, a little bemused, shaking his head. “I’m alright. I even managed to catch one.”

Jesse gestures down at the figure curled up in the dirt. Gabe follows his gaze: it’s a woman, her dark hair plaited in a long, thick braid over her shoulder. She’s wearing a sleeveless vest with an intricately embroidered jacket tied around her waist, cropped riding pants and knee-high boots - a far cry from the corsets and elaborate dresses of the women in Sweetwater. She’s rougher around the edges, too, with a sharp, cunning look in her eye. Jesse’s tied her hands together and she’s glaring up at both of them, but she doesn’t struggle against the ropes.

“Who is she?”

“Los Muertos scout,” Jesse says. “She and her compadres must’ve heard something was up. Ain’t no other reason they’d be this close to town, ain’t that right sweetheart?”

“ _Chingate_ _!_ ” she spits. Jesse shakes his head.

“Where are your manners? I ain’t killed you yet,” he says. She sneers. Jesse looks at Gabe. “I figured we might take her with us - might come in handy when we get to the gorge.”

“A bargaining chip. Do the Los Muertos negotiate?” Gabe asks. Jesse shrugs.

“Worth a shot, at least,” he says, dusting off his hands as he straightens. “Where’d your friend go? He’s not hurt, is he?”

“No. He’s fine,” Gabe says with a shrug of his own. Jesse looks at him critically for a moment, but doesn’t press.

“Well, you mind riding with her?” Jesse asks, gesturing to the woman. “I’d throw her on my saddle, but Buckshot don’t take kindly to strangers, mostly.”

“Sure.”

Between the two of them, they manage to get the woman onto Gabe’s saddle, tying her down securely even though she fights. She manages to land a kick to Jesse’s jaw that sends him stumbling back a few steps. Gabe catches her ankles and properly secures them so she can’t try that again.

“Nice one,” Jesse says. He rubs his jaw. “With manners like those, you’ll make plenty of friends.”

“Let me see,” Gabe says, reaching out to take Jesse’s chin in his hand before he stops himself. Jesse drops his own hand, letting Gabe tilt his head back to examine his jaw. He looks at Gabe from under his long lashes.

“It ain’t a thing, Gabriel,” Jesse says, voice low. Gabe raises his eyes to meet Jesse’s gaze, suddenly aware of their proximity. He lets go of Jesse’s chin and takes a step back.

“You get beat up a lot,” Gabe says. Jesse’s mouth quirks up at the corner.

“Just my luck, I guess,” Jesse says. He reaches out to tug on one of the ropes binding the woman to Gabe’s saddle. “You think your friend’s gonna catch up, or should we head out on our own?”

“He’s probably still trying to wrangle his horse,” Gabe says.

“I heard that,” Jack says as he rides up. He frowns at the woman tied to Gabe’s horse. “Who’s that?”

“Los Muertos scout,” Jesse says. “Something that might give us a leg up when we get to their camp.”

Jack’s expression brightens. He’s eyeing the woman in a way that doesn’t exactly sit well with Gabe. For what it’s worth, she gives levels a withering look of her own at Jack.

“I like the sound of that,” Jack says. “Does she talk? What’s your name, princess?”

The woman spits in Jack’s general direction. Jesse makes a face.

“I don’t wanna gag you, but I will if I have to,” he warns. She purses her lips and hunches forward in the saddle. Jesse whistles for his horse. Buckshot trots back to Jesse as docile as a dog, nosing at his hand as if Jesse might be hiding a treat. Jesse pats his neck.

“We should keep moving. I know a place we can make camp if we get there before sundown,” Jesse says. “You sure you’re okay to ride with her, Gabriel?”

“I’ll let you know,” Gabe says, hauling himself up behind the scout. It’s a little awkward, but she’s relatively small. Her hands are bound to the pommel, and her feet are out of the way of his stirrups - all he has to do is reach around her for the reins. Once he manages to do that, it’s not so bad.

“All set?” Jesse asks, bringing his horse up beside Gabe’s.

“I think I’m good.”

“Let’s get moving then, before Los Muertos sends people looking for their scouts.”

Jesse starts off in a light gallop, veering off the trail and back up into the hills. Gabe follows, a little unsteady with the added weight. He feels her shift in front of him.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says. She snorts.

“Rich, coming from the likes of you,” she says. Gabe frowns.

“You shot at us first.”

“And next time, I won’t miss.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to make threats,” he says. She shrugs.

“So, what’s the plan today, Gabe?” she asks. “It was Gabe, wasn’t it?”

“Mm, and your name is?”

“Nice try, _cabrón_ ,” she says. “You say you want to use me as a bargaining chip? Well, Los Muertos doesn’t bargain.”

“Sounds like you need to make better friends,” Gabe replies.

“Who says they’re my friends?” she retorts. “A job’s a job.”

Gabe doesn’t respond. He doesn’t trust her, of course - she did just shoot at them, after all - but if her loyalties are as fungible as she appears to be insinuating, it might work out for them. He feels her shift in the saddle.

“Are you alright?” he asks. “Are you hurt?”

“Why do you care?”

“If you’re going to bleed out on my horse, I’d appreciate some warning,” Gabe says. She snorts. Gabe lets out a sigh. “Look, I don’t want you to suffer.”

She laughs. “I’ve heard that one before.”

“If you help us, we’ll help you,” Gabe says. She twists around as best as she can to look up at Gabe, her dark eyes piercing.

“What makes you think you can help me?” she says, voice full of scorn.

“It’s got to be better than whatever Los Muertos can give you.”

“You sound so sure of that.”

“What have you got to lose, at this point?” Gabe says. She turns back around abruptly and falls quiet, her shoulders rigid. Gabe doesn't say anything else. He adjusts his grip on the reins and trots to catch up with Jesse.

The sun moves across the sky, edging towards the horizon. Jack has started complaining again, but Gabe doesn't pay him any attention. Jesse leads them into a small clearing tucked into the side of a hill as the last rays of sunlight begin to fade.

“It's not much farther from here,” Jesse says. “But we ought to stop for the night. Give Jack a rest from his saddle woes.”

Jack scowls at Jesse but he's already sliding down from his horse. Jesse does the same, grabbing the reins of Jack’s mount to tether her to a nearby tree with his own horse. Gabe slides off his horse with some difficulty, trying not to jostle the Los Muertos scout. Jesse comes over and looks up at her, hands on his hips.

“You gonna make us trouble?” he asks. She sneers at him.

“Untie me and find out,” she says. Jesse clicks his tongue.

“Well, that wasn't never an option,” Jesse says. He looks at Gabe. “Help me get her down? We’ll tie her up with the horses.”

Gabe holds the woman as Jesse unties her from his saddle. He swings her down from the horse easily - she weighs almost nothing at all - and carries her to the trees at the edge of the clearing. She struggles as much as she can with her hands and feet still bound.

“I can walk,” she grumbles.

“Means you can run too,” Jesse says cheerfully, a step behind Gabe. “Here - this one.”

They tie her to the tree, hands behind her back and around the trunk, sitting upright, with her ankles bound just in case. She doesn't make it easy for them, but Gabe and Jesse are used to it by now. They move around each other easily, almost as if one can predict the other’s movements. Jack stands off to the side, watching.

“Seems like a lot of trouble for something that isn't a sure thing,” Jack says, unimpressed. Jesse straightens, looking over his shoulder at Jack.

“Ain't nothing in this life is a sure thing, ‘cept one day we're born and one day we die,” Jesse says. “You want to make yourself useful and get some tinder?”

Jack narrows his eyes.

“I'll do it,” Gabe says quickly. Jack’s expression relaxes slightly and he grabs his pack to find a comfortable spot to sprawl out. He's complaining now, but he'll be snoring in no time. Hopefully.

Gabe gathers up some fallen branches, taking care to not stray too far from their campsite. He's sore in a way that he hasn't been for years - not that he's spent any meaningful time on horseback, but the physical challenge feels good, refreshing. He and Jack have spent so much time building Overwatch, dwelling in the politics and logistics, that Gabe has nearly forgotten what it's like to physically do the work on the ground. There's something about Westworld that makes Gabe recall his days in basic training, or even his first deployment to the Middle East. Not that all of those memories are particularly good ones - Gabe has enough trauma to keep him up most nights - but the raw, unfettered energy of this place reminds him of those first engagements as a young officer, fresh out of the academy, still wet behind the ears. Gabe would never have said that he longed to relive those days, and he still probably wouldn't. It feels like touching a live wire - painful and thrilling and a jolt of adrenaline all at once. Gabe eventually became inoculated against it, practically becoming immune to anything that might come as a shock to the system. Here, in Westworld, Gabe is reminded of what it’s like to not know the playbook by heart. He’s in unfamiliar territory - he has to be on his toes. It may just be a game, but he feels like he’s woken up from a long, hazy nap.

He can’t yet decide if it’s a good thing or not.

It’s nearly dark by the time Gabe brings his tinder back to their little campsite. Jack is drinking directly from a bottle, his eyes on the scout tied to a tree. Jesse is nowhere in sight.

“Don’t,” Gabe says as he passes by Jack. Jack glances up at him.

“What?”

“You’ve got a look in your eye.”

“If she knows something, it could be useful,” Jack says. He sits forward a little. “You were always good at making people talk.”

“I don’t do that anymore,” Gabe says, dumping the tinder into a pile. He kneels in the dirt to arrange the sticks and branches better.

“Don’t start up with your morals again, Mr. Black Hat,” Jack says, waving his bottle. He gets up and settles himself next to Gabe’s campfire. “That doesn’t matter here, remember?”

“We’re not doing this again, Jack,” Gabe says. He sits back on his heels and unholsters his shotgun, using the flintlock to ignite the dry tinder. It smolders then flares brightly. Gabe leans forward and blows on it gently until the rest of the branches catch fire. Satisfied, Gabe holsters his shotgun.

“Will you just relax?”

“You know, telling me to relax is really not helping me relax,” Gabe says.

“Why are you acting like a saint, all of a sudden?” Jack asks. Gabe blinks at him, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“What are you talking about?” Gabe asks, the warning note clear in his voice.

“I’ve seen you in the field, Gabe,” Jack says, almost accusingly. “Why are you getting squeamish _now_?”

Gabe opens his mouth to respond but can’t find the words - how does he explain that it’s different when there’s a job to do and people’s lives depend on it? How does he explain how he reconciles the damage he has done with the knowledge that it’s for the greater good? That his ability to sleep soundly at night is easy to sacrifice when he knows his sisters and their families are able to sleep peacefully? It’s _easy_ to pull the trigger when he thinks of his nieces and nephews being able to grow up in a world that’s just a little bit safer, to not face the hardships that he had to struggle through.

It’s harder, here, when he doesn’t see the benefit of shooting first.

Why doesn’t Jack understand that?

Jesse trots back to their campsite, holding two rabbits by the ears and looking eminently pleased with himself.

“Supper’s just a few hops away,” he says, settling in next to Gabe and unsheathing a knife from his belt. He glances at Jack and Gabe, brow furrowing slightly, but he doesn’t try to pry, instead focusing on skinning the two rabbits. “I can take the first watch tonight, if you both want to get some sleep.”

“Sure,” Gabe says. Jesse glances towards the tree where the scout is bound and sulking.

“I figure we set out just before first light,” Jesse says. He deftly peels the skin back from both rabbits. “Did she say anything?”

“Not much at all,” Gabe says.

“I think we could make her talk, though,” Jack says. Jesse raises his eyebrows.

“Suppose we could,” Jesse says slowly. “Though I don’t know if it would do us much good.”

“She’s gotta know something,” Jack says. He leans forward, his features thrown into sharp relief by the flickering campfire. “Otherwise, why keep her around?”

“Maybe they don’t shoot us on sight if they see her first,” Jesse says.

“Or maybe they shoot anyway,” Jack says, waving a hand. “If we’re just going in to clean out their camp, I don’t see any point in trying to reason with them.”

Jesse puts down his knife slowly, deliberately, and meets Jack’s eye.

“I know you’re new to these parts, so maybe you don’t exactly know how Los Muertos operates. Maybe you ain’t heard the rumors,” Jesse says. “Or maybe you don’t pay ‘em any mind. I wouldn’t blame you. But running into that mess without an appreciation for how dangerous they are is liable to get you killed. And messily.”

Jack scoffs. “You’re exaggerating.”

“And you ain’t listening,” Jesse says. His eyes go a little hollow, haunted, but his voice doesn’t waver. “I was just a boy when Los Muertos took my mama, made me watch what they did to her. I held her in my arms when they finally left her to bleed out. And that weren’t even the worst they could do. If they’re sending scouts this close to Sweetwater, it means they’re up to something, and it ain’t gonna be good.”

“All this talk and I’m still not seeing a reason to keep her around,” Jack says.

“Because I ain’t gonna stoop to their level,” Jesse says, raising his voice a little.

“I don’t think she has much loyalty to them,” Gabe interjects. Jesse looks at Gabe curiously. Gabe shrugs. “A job’s a job, she said. And she doesn’t have a lot to lose at this point, either.”

Jesse purses his lips. “Something to consider.”

“More trouble than it’s worth, if you ask me,” Jack says, shaking his head.

“Let’s sleep on it. If we don’t have a better plan in the morning - we’ll figure something out,” Gabe says. Jack lets his breath out in a huff. He takes a long draw from his bottle.

“Alright.”

Jesse doesn’t look at either of them, concentrating instead on roasting the rabbits over the open flame. Silence falls over their camp as the smell of cooking meat fills the air. Somewhere nearby, an owl hoots. Fat sizzles on the cinders. Gabe’s stomach rumbles - he didn’t realize how hungry he was. He takes a leg of rabbit when Jesse offers it to him.

“Thanks - I’m going to see if our friend wants to talk,” he says, standing up. Jesse tips his head back to look at him, something like a smile playing around his lips.

“Sure,” Jesse says. Jack snorts.

“It’s a waste,” he says. Jesse glances over at Jack.

“Plenty to go around,” Jesse says. He looks up at Gabe. “Good luck. I’ll save you another piece.”

Gabe steps out of the ring of light around the campfire to where the scout is tied up with the horses. She raises her head when she hears the crunch of Gabe’s boots on the dry leaves. Her eyes glint in the low light.

“Hungry?” Gabe asks, offering the rabbit leg. She eyes him warily. He crouches in front of her, takes a bite out of the leg where she can see it. The meat is surprisingly juicy, tender, if not a little smoky. “It’s good.”

“I’m tied up, _pendejo_ ,” she says. She tugs against the ropes for effect. Gabe rolls his eyes.

“I’ll give you a hand,” he says.

“For what?” she asks. “I heard your friend talking.”

“I’m not looking for anything,” Gabe says. “I’m just not interested in being the bad guy here.”

She snorts. “Funny.”

“Are you hungry or not?” he asks. She purses her lips. Gabe gets up and moves around the tree, working one-handedly to free one of the scout’s hands. He puts the rabbit leg in her hand. “Here.”

He starts moving away.

“Hey,” she calls after him. Gabe stops, turns to look at her. “Thanks.”

He tips his hat and goes back to the fire. Jesse holds up another leg of rabbit to him as he sits down.

“Nice of you,” Jesse says. Gabe shrugs.

“A little kindness goes a long way,” he replies. Across the fire, Gabe sees Jack shake his head and take another drink from his bottle.

※

_Bang_ . Blood explodes across Gabe’s face, warm and sticky, bits of bone and gore sticking to his clothes. He feels something spongy and hot slide down his collar. He opens his mouth to scream but no sound comes out. He tastes iron on his tongue, bitter and metallic, mixing with the bile that’s quickly rising in his throat. When he looks down at his hands, he realizes _he’s_ the one holding the gun - the blood is on _his_ hands -

“Gabriel? Gabe, c’mon, wake up -” a voice says above him, hands shaking him awake. Gabe startles back to consciousness, breathing hard, sweating through his shirt. He blinks in the dim, flickering light. Jesse McCree’s face hovers above his own, brow pinched in concern. “Hey. There you are. You alright?”

Gabe sits up slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. Jesse sits back on his heels, scooting a little ways away to give him some breathing room.

“Yeah,” Gabe says finally. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

He glances over at Jack, who’s sound asleep on his pack with his hat tipped down over his face and the bottle of whiskey clutched to his chest, apparently undisturbed. Gabe lets out a breath and looks back at Jesse.

“Nightmares?” Jesse asks, voice quiet, soft. Gabe lifts one shoulder in a shrug, turning his gaze back to the dwindling fire.

“Yeah.”

“You get those a lot?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” Jesse says. Gabe turns his head to look at Jesse - really look at him. His face has gone soft, sad, _vulnerable_ in a way that’s emphasized by the firelight. His eyes are on the flickering flames and Gabe gets a sudden, intense ache in his chest. He swallows down the feeling.

“I’m sorry,” Gabe says, for lack of anything else to say. Jesse lets out a humorless chuckle.

“Ain’t none of it was your fault,” Jesse says. He lifts his head to meet Gabe’s eye again. “But thanks. For what it’s worth.”

“Thanks for waking me up,” Gabe says with a nod.

“Any time,” he says. A moment seems to pass between them, that fluttering feeling in Gabe's chest returning. Jesse asks, “You mind taking the next watch?”

“Not at all. You get some sleep while you can,” Gabe says. Jesse gives him a smile, then gets up and moves to his own pack. Gabe watches him out of the corner of his eye: Jesse carefully rewraps his serape around his shoulders, sets his hat on the edge of his pack and settles back, arms folded over his chest and chin tipped down.

Gabe gets up to take a leak, moving into a nearby bush for some privacy. He spots the scout out of the corner of his eye. Once he rebuttons his pants, he goes to check on her too. The bones of the rabbit leg lie in the dirt at her side. She seems to be asleep, but either the sound of Gabe’s feet or the sudden proximity wakes her. She goes stiff, drawing her legs in closer to her chest.

“Hey - it's alright,” Gabe says, putting his hands out. “I'm not going to hurt you, remember?”

“Maybe you changed your mind,” she says.

“Not likely. I'm pretty stubborn.”

A moment of silence passes between them. In the distance, an owl hoots softly.

“I'll let you get back to sleep,” Gabe says, starting to turn away.

“You're walking into a powder keg,” she says suddenly. Gabe stops, turning back to her.

“The Los Muertos camp, you mean?” he asks. She purses her lips and nods.

“They don't just have guns,” she says.

“Stands to reason.”

“If you're really -” she stops. Gabe raises his eyebrows expectantly. She looks away. “I don't know if I can trust you.”

“If there's some way I can help,” Gabe says, waving a hand. “I'm really not here to cause trouble.”

The scout doesn't say anything for a long time. Gabe turns away again, and this time she doesn't stop him.

“There's kids,” she calls out when Gabe’s nearly back at the fire. “If you let them die, you're as bad as they are. Worse.”

Gabe curls his hands at his side, closing his eyes briefly. He remembers an orphanage, from his early days in the Middle East.

He remembers what became of it.

He turns back to the scout.

“Tell me what you know.”


	3. Powderkeg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sombra leads Gabe, Jesse and Jack to the Deadlock Gorge to confront the Los Muertos gang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to Westworld AU hell! This week, at least, there's smut! 
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy this week's installment ♥

Jesse wakes as the sky begins to lighten, but before the sun peeks over the horizon. He blinks open his eyes, looking up at the pale purple sky above his head. 

Gabe pokes at the dying fire with a charred stick. He looks up when he sees the movement out of the corner of his eye. 

“Morning,” he says. Jesse gives him a sleepy smile, stretching languorously as he stands. He dusts off his serape and settles his hat back on his head. 

“Morning,” Jesse says. 

“Sleep okay?”

“Like a baby.”

“That's good,” Gabe nods. “I could go for a cup of coffee myself.”

“Me too,” Jesse says wistfully. “Even though the stuff back at the saloon tastes like boiled dirt.”

“I'd take it,” Gabe says. Jesse laughs, stretching again. Gabe hesitates a moment, chewing on his lip as he considers his next words carefully. “Hey.” He waits for Jesse to look at him. “I talked to the scout last night.”

Jesse blinks then frowns. “She try to convince you to let her go?” he asks, glancing to the tree where the horses are still tethered. The scout is there too; safely tied up, apparently asleep. 

“No. She said that Los Muertos probably has kids,” Gabe says. He bites his lip, images of the bombed out orphanage flashing in front of his eyes again. “Children. We can't just go in there, guns blazing.”

“Aw, hell,” Jesse says. He scrubs a hand over his face. “I was really looking forward to blowing them to smithereens.”

“We can't,” Gabe says, a small pleading note coming into his voice before he can stop it. He clears his throat. “We have to at least get the kids out first.”

“Did she say how many?”

Gabe shakes his head. “At least one - her little brother.”

“Fuck,” Jesse says under his breath. He aims a kick at one of the charred branches in the dying fire. It sends sparks into the dirt. He marches over to the scout. Gabe scrambles up to follow. Jesse toes at the bottom of her shoe, startling her awake. “How many kids are in the Los Muertos camp?” 

The scout makes a face. “Five - six, I don’t know.”

Jesse makes a small, frustrated noise and paces away. He yanks the hat off his head and fists a hand in his hair. Gabe blinks - he hadn’t expected such a reaction from Jesse. He steps into Jesse’s path, reaching out for his shoulder. Jesse stops mid-pace, letting Gabe steady him. 

“We’ll get them out of there,” Gabe says, more confidence in his voice than he feels. He looks Jesse directly in the eye as he speaks. “We’ll get them out and we’ll still blow them to hell, alright?”

Jesse swallows; Gabe watches his adam’s apple bob. He lets out his breath. 

“Yeah. Alright,” he says. Jesse swings back around to look at the scout. “You’re going to help us.”

“What’s in it for me?”

Gabe spreads his hands. “Your freedom - you and your little brother get to start over. Isn’t that enough?”

The scout is looking at Gabe mistrustfully. After a long moment - in which Gabe doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath - she nods. 

“Alright.”

※

The plan comes together easily after that - almost too easily. Gabe has to wonder about how quickly the pieces fall into place once he and Jesse get the scout on their side, but Jesse doesn’t seem to share Gabe’s doubts. He seems to have put his trust in the scout and Gabe can’t find it in himself to mistrust Jesse. So he goes along with the plan, even though Gabe’s tactical brain still tries to flash him a warning

Sombra - the scout’s name, or at least the one she gives Gabe and Jesse - agrees to slip into the camp first. It makes the most sense: she’s been there before, she knows the layout. She’ll find the children and signal when they’re moving to safety. Gabe, Jesse and Jack will serve as a distraction; anything to keep the Los Muertos gang’s attention on them, and not Sombra and the children as they make their way out of the gorge. 

If they do it right, they’ll be able to save the children and clear out the Los Muertos encampment. 

If they do it wrong, well. They better not do it wrong. 

Jack wakes up halfway through planning the mission. Gabe fills him in, Sombra interjecting here and there. Jack is not pleased. 

“And we’re trusting her, why?” Jack says, directing the question to Gabe as if Jesse and Sombra aren’t there at all. 

“What other choice do we have?” Gabe says. Jack spreads his hands. 

“We could go with the original plan, which was just blow the entire gang away. That seems a lot easier. Less prone to failure.”

“Too many casualties,” Gabe objects, shaking his head. “If we limit the number of casualties -”

“Who cares?” Jack interjects. “They’re robots.”

Gabe presses his mouth in a hard line, sneaking a look at Jesse and Sombra. Neither of them have reacted, their expressions largely unchanged. 

“That’s not the point,” Gabe says. 

“The point is we don’t have to worry about this stuff right now, Gabe,” Jack says. “Aren’t you tired about making those kinds of calculations? How many lives to save and what the benefits and costs are? We can just - do our jobs.”

Gabe closes his eyes briefly. “We can’t think like that.”

“Just let this be easy, for once in your life,” Jack says, his voice going a little softer, a little pleading. Gabe draws a deep breath. 

“No,” he says. Jack makes a frustrated noise. 

“You’re going to ruin this,” Jack says. “You’ve made it too complicated. I just wanted to blow up some bad guys and get to Pariah. Why do you have to make it difficult?”

“You never said this was supposed to be an easy game,” Gabe says. Jack frowns. 

“I swear to god, if you ruin this -”

“Then I’ll cover the cost of the trip,” Gabe says, avoiding looking at Jesse and Sombra. “If we stick to the plan, though, it’ll work.”

A muscle works in Jack’s jaw as he considers the proposition. Finally, finally, he relents, letting out a frustrated sigh. 

“Fine. Tell me the plan again?”

※

The next day, they get to the gorge at first light. The sky is tinged a rosy pink, cloudless and golden as the sun peeks over the horizon. Sombra leads them to a dip in the canyon wall that should provide them easy access with fairly good cover - though she warns them that guards patrol the perimeter at regular intervals. 

“Oh - and one more thing,” Sombra says, turning back before she walks away. She hesitates, as if considering something. “They’ve been stockpiling nitro.”

Jesse blinks. “You’re shitting me.”

“You didn’t think to mention that sooner?” Gabe asks, the doubt resurfacing suddenly. Sombra shrugs. 

“Sorry Gabe. I’m mentioning it now, aren’t I?” she says. Gabe looks at Jesse, whose expression is grim but determined. It eases the doubt that’s been stewing in the back of his mind, just a hair. Gabe lets a breath out and rubs a hand over his face. If it wasn't easy before, it's going to be extra difficult now. 

“Okay. Good to know. We’ll be careful - at least until you’re clear.”

“It’s appreciated,” Sombra says. “ _ Ten cuidado _ .”

“Thanks,” Jesse says, making a face. Sombra smiles - the first real smile Gabe’s seen her crack since she and the other scouts accosted them on the trail the day before. 

“See you on the other side.”

She melts into the landscape without a sound, surprisingly quickly - there’s a reason she’s a scout, Gabe realizes. He turns back to face Jesse and Jack. 

“If there’s really any nitro down there, we shouldn’t shoot unless we have to,” Gabe says. “We don’t know where it is, what can set it off…”

“We’ll be careful,” Jack says impatiently. “Can we just get going already?”

Gabe finds himself looking, for some reason, at Jesse, who meets his gaze with a serious look of his own and nods. It's reassuring in a way that Jack hasn't been, though Gabe can't put his finger on why. 

“Let’s go,” Gabe says.

The three of them drop down into the gorge and split up, fanning out along the edges of the Los Muertos encampment. It’s still quiet, the early dawn sun not quite managing to rouse any of the gang members. From his position behind a large boulder, Gabe surveys the site: there’s a couple of lean-tos built against the walls of the gorge; a large, smoldering campfire with a spit in the middle of a ring of shabby tents and bedrolls; several wooden crates are stacked throughout the camp site. Gabe wonders which ones are filled with guns, and which are filled with nitro - none of them are marked. 

It sure isn’t going to be easy. 

Gabe moves along the eastern wall of the canyon and positions himself next to one of the lean-tos. He’s got a perfect line of sight to the men sleeping around the campfire: three around the fire, probably another few in the tents. A pair of lookouts on either end of the gorge. Jesse is somewhere on the opposite side of the camp, and Jack is at the end of the gorge opposite Sombra’s escape route. The idea is basically a pinching and blocking maneuver: crowd the gang members inward, away from Sombra and the escaping children, enabling Gabe, Jesse and Jack to put an end to Los Muertos’ activities in the canyon. 

They're outnumbered, of course, but Gabe’s had worse. Much worse. They have the advantage of surprise, at the very least. He and Jack are highly trained, and - if Jesse’s background is to be believed - Jesse will pull his weight too. Gabe settles into his heels, keeping an ear out for a signal from Sombra as he watches the gang members shift in their sleep. 

The absurdity of the situation strikes him for a moment: this isn't a matter of life and death. Gabe is essentially playing a grown-up version of cowboys and outlaws. Here, crouching in the dirt as the morning light brightens, Gabe is waiting for something to happen that won't affect his day to day life, won't have an impact on anyone he knows outside of this place. It's a strange feeling, then, to care so deeply about this going right. 

A shrill whistle pierces the air, three distinct trills cutting through the chatter of birdsong. Gabe counts to ten then straightens, drawing a knife from his boot. He steps into the camp as the men begin to stir from their bed rolls. On the other side of the campfire, Gabe sees Jesse step out too. 

For all the hastiness of their planning, Gabe and Jesse fall into sync as if they have been working together for years. Gabe steps right and Jesse steps left, Gabe going high while Jesse goes low. The men just waking up barely have time to process what hits them: the three men around the fire are knocked out, hauled together and tied up before they manage to get to their feet. The commotion draws more men out of the tents. Jesse catches Gabe’s eye as they close in: he's grinning, eyes bright, another length of rope in his hand. Gabe nods. They jump in. 

There's more men in the tents than Gabe expected. He takes out the first man with a knife to the side before he pushes him down to the ground and out of the way. The next man takes a swing at his head that Gabe manages to duck. His knife gets knocked out of his hand by another man with a rifle. Gabe sweeps the man’s legs out from under him, sending him tumbling into the fire. He grabs the spit before the burning man with the rifle kicks it away, turning on his heel to face the man who took a swing at him. Gabe wields the spit like a bat, swinging at the man’s head. It connects with a satisfying crunch, sending him tumbling into a tent, which collapses on him. 

“Gabe!” Jesse’s voice rings out above the commotion. Gabe turns on the spot to see a huge man barreling towards him. He hoists the spit again, ready for him, and then a loop of rope falls over the man’s head. The rope tightens around his neck and he stumbles as the rope jerks him back. Jesse, holding onto the other end of the rope, tugs hard, digging his spurs into the dirt - it makes the man fall backwards. Jesse kicks at the man’s head when he hits the dirt. He looks back up at Gabe, breathing hard, shoulders heaving. “Okay?”

Gabe can't help the smile that spreads across his face. “Okay. You?”

“Just fine,” Jesse says, matching his smile. 

“We ought to find Jack,” Gabe says, glancing down the canyon. Jesse drops the rope and dusts off his hands. 

“Alright.”

A movement out of the corner of Gabe’s eye catches his attention but Jesse is faster: one of the not-so unconscious men has managed to pull his gun from his holster. Jesse dives for the man before Gabe can stop him. They wrestle for a moment, each of them struggling for control of the gun. The gun goes off and Gabe’s heart skips a beat. He’s at Jesse’s side in an instant, hauling him up with both hands. There’s blood on his shirt. 

“Jesse -”

“I’m alright,” Jesse says, not pulling away. “I’m okay.”

“Are you -”

“It ain’t mine,” Jesse says, shaking his head. He gestures down at the man, who’s bleeding into the dirt from a bullet wound in his chest. The man coughs wetly, his eyes glazing over. “Where’s your friend?”

“Jack? I haven’t seen him.”

“We ought to find him before he does something stupid,” Jesse says. He tosses the dying man’s gun away after he empties the clip. Gabe drops his hands from Jesse’s shoulders. 

“How’d you know?”

“Just a hunch.”

Gabe nods, looking around. “Do you have any idea which of these crates might have the nitro?”

“Not a clue,” Jesse says. “Deadlock never messed with that shit.”

“We should be careful, then,” Gabe says. There’s a commotion at Jack’s end of the gorge.

“There’s the something stupid, I reckon.”

“Come on,” Gabe says, hurrying to the noise with Jesse at his heels. 

The explosion sends them both flying backwards. 

Dazed, ears ringing and nose full of a strange, smoky yet sweet smell, it takes Gabe a moment to orient himself. He blinks up at the sky, trying to clear the spots out of his vision. A shadow moves overhead. A flash of memory passes through his mind but he blinks it away quickly. He blinks again and then Jesse’s face comes into focus, haloed by the sun. Jesse’s lips move but his voice sounds far away. He holds a hand out to Gabe, who reaches up and grabs it (after missing the first time). Gabe’s world tilts and spins as he’s hauled back to his feet, but, once upright, everything seems to even out. 

“We have to go,” Jesse says. His voice still sounds a little distant, muffled, but Gabe nods. 

Together, they scramble back out of the camp. Rocks are beginning to tumble down the canyon walls, triggering another explosion. It starts a chain reaction: more crates explode around them as they weave through the camp, dodging rocks and debris as they make their escape. Gabe’s heart is pounding in his throat but he keeps going, the adrenaline pushing him forward. 

At the back end of the gorge there's two lookouts watching the destruction with wide eyes. Behind him, Jesse unholsters his gun and takes two shots in quick succession. Gabe feels the bullets whizz by his ears and then the two lookouts crumple to the ground, a hole in the center of each of their foreheads. Jesse’s step hardly falters. They burst out of main canyon as smoke begins to choke out the sun. They only stop when they're a safe distance from danger. Jesse sinks down onto a rock, Gabe kneeling in front of him, breathing hard. 

“Jesus Christ,” Jesse breathes, almost a laugh. He’s bleeding from fresh cuts and there's blood on his teeth when he flashes a grin at Gabe. “We made it.”

Gabe surges up and takes Jesse’s face in both hands, kissing him hard. Jesse makes a little noise against his mouth but doesn't pull away. His hands reach for Gabe, dragging him up, closer, kissing him back with an edge of desperation. Gabe gives into it, squeezing his eyes shut and tasting Jesse on his lips - smoky from the explosions, salty from sweat, metallic from his blood, a sweet undertone that Gabe doesn't expect at all. He kisses Jesse deeply. He can blame the adrenaline later. 

Jesse pulls away first, panting, eyes bright. “Been waiting for that,” he says. Gabe feels his face go hot. 

“Sorry -” he starts to say, but Jesse cuts him off. 

“Don't apologize unless you don't intend to do that again,” Jesse says. 

So Gabe leans up and kisses him again. 

Jesse fists his hands in Gabe’s shirt, tugging at the fabric, fingers pressing against his already bruised skin. Gabe doesn't care - the pain makes it feel somehow more real. He hasn't been touched in so long and he's desperate for it. He cups Jesse’s face, keeping his lips close to his own, letting Jesse sweep his tongue into his mouth. A small moan escapes Gabe’s throat. Jesse swallows it down eagerly. His nimble fingers go for the buttons on Gabe’s shirt, prying it open to get at the skin underneath. Gabe doesn't stop him, makes that little moan again, which Jesse takes as an encouragement. He pushes Gabe's shirt off his shoulders to get at more skin. Gabe moves one of his hands into Jesse’s hair, twisting his fingers in the strands, keeping his face close to his own. 

“Gabe,” he says against Gabe’s lips, hands trailing down Gabe’s exposed chest. His fingers pause at Gabe’s belt buckle. Gabe kisses him again, hard, more teeth than he means to, hand moving into Jesse’s hair. He knocks Jesse’s hat off. Jesse is undeterred - he undoes Gabe’s belt buckle and makes quick work of the buttons of his fly, fingers sliding into the front of Gabe’s pants where he's already, embarrassingly, hard. Gabe jerks against the brush of Jesse’s calloused fingers. Jesse’s hand stills. “Do you want…?”

Gabe swallows thickly. “Yes,” he nods. Jesse surges forward to kiss him again, hands pushing Gabe’s pants open and out of the way. He pulls away only to sink to his knees in the dirt front of Gabe, pressing a kiss to his bare stomach before taking Gabe’s cock into his mouth.

Gabe tosses his head back. He clutches at Jesse’s hair, his toes curling in his boots. Jesse’s mouth is hot and soft at the same time, enveloping his hard cock in wet heat. Gabe manages to look back down at Jesse, who meets his eyes, mouth stretched obscenely around Gabe’s dick. His tongue does something to the underside of his cock. Gabe lets out a gasp. 

“Jesse -” he says, strained. Jesse pulls off with a wet pop, replacing his mouth with his fist, stroking down the length of him one handedly while he goes for his own belt buckle. He gets it open easily, then lets go of Gabe’s dick and stands so he can shimmy his pants down. Gabe blinks at him, uncomprehending, but then Jesse spits into his palm and slides it down Gabe’s dick again. He pulls him closer. 

“Want you to fuck me, Gabe,” Jesse says against Gabe’s lips. Then he’s turning around, bracing himself with one arm against the wall of the canyon, his bare ass peeking over the top of his pants. He reaches back, drawing Gabe in with one hand on his cock, and Gabe doesn’t even think twice about it. He steps in close, rubbing the length of his dick against Jesse’s ass. Jesse cants his hips back, turning his head to look at Gabe over his shoulder. “Please,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. 

Gabe takes his own dick into his hand and Jesse lets go to spit into his palm again, rubbing the saliva between his cheeks. Gabe traces the same path with his cock as Jesse pulls his fingers away. 

“Gabe, please -” Jesse says again, his voice going a little higher, a little needier. It can’t possibly be enough moisture, but Gabe meets little resistance as he pushes in, the tip of his cock breaching Jesse’s hole smoothly. He’s tight, hot,  _ wet _ and it feels incredible. Gabe grips Jesse’s hips with both hands, eyes glued to the sight of his cock splitting Jesse open. Jesse tosses his head back and moans throatily. “Yes - yes - Gabe,  _ more _ \- yes!” 

Gabe takes a half step forward, planting his feet between Jesse’s legs, hips flush with his naked ass. He takes a moment to breathe, relishing the way Jesse is clenching and fluttering around his cock. Jesse shifts. 

“Fuck me, Gabe, please just move -” 

Gabe pulls back, just a little, then thrusts in, drawing a small cry from Jesse’s mouth. He does it again, and again, picking up an adrenaline-fueled rhythm, pounding into Jesse relentlessly. Jesse braces himself against the canyon wall, pushing back with every thrust, moaning Gabe’s name with increasing fervor. Gabe drops his forehead to Jesse’s shoulder, breathing hard, his fingers pressing into Jesse’s flesh. He feels so fucking good - tight and hot pressure around his dick - Gabe won’t last long. 

“Yeah, Jesse, yeah,” Gabe breathes into Jesse’s neck, mouthing over his skin sloppily. Jesse finds one of Gabe’s hands on his hip and drags it forward until Gabe’s fingers brush the base of Jesse’s erection. Gabe takes the hint, stroking Jesse down fast and hard. It makes Jesse clench still harder around Gabe’s dick. “I'm gonna - I'm - Jesse - !”

“Gabe!” Jesse cries out, spurting over Gabe’s fist. Gabe slams into Jesse, flattening them both against the canyon wall, his dick pulsing inside Jesse. He's panting into Jesse’s ear, mouthing along the skin there, breathing in smoke and gunpowder and sweat. 

Gabe doesn't pull away until he feels Jesse tremble underneath him. Gabe comes back to himself. He pulls away hastily, his softening dick slipping free of Jesse’s ass with an obscene wet sound. Jesse straightens, turning to look at Gabe with wondering eyes. Gabe looks away, tucking himself back into his pants clumsily. 

“Sorry - I didn't mean to…” Gabe trails off; he doesn't know  _ what _ he didn't mean to do, exactly. He wanted to kiss Jesse. He wanted to fuck him. But not… like this. 

Jesse blinks at Gabe, his face falling a little bit - he almost looks hurt, or disappointed, maybe. It makes something tighten in Gabe’s chest, aching to make it right. 

“Oh,” Jesse says softly. He ducks his head and pulls up his pants, turning around to look for his hat. Gabe bites down on the inside of his cheek. 

“I just didn't mean for it to happen like this,” Gabe blurts out, the color high on his cheeks. Jesse pauses and turns back to look at him. 

“What d’you mean?” Jesse asks, cautious, almost suspicious. Gabe toes at the dirt self-consciously then gestures vaguely at their surroundings. 

“Maybe would've preferred a bed, for one thing,” Gabe says. “I mean, you know. Do it right.”

Jesse blinks, then laughs - a full-bodied, bright sound. Gabe shifts on the spot, but there's nothing spiteful about Jesse’s tone. He's taken by surprise when Jesse steps towards him and takes his face in both hands, kissing him firmly, but sweetly. 

“I spend so much time in bed that this is a downright novelty,” Jesse says. He goes suddenly a little shy, eyes downcast. Gabe scans Jesse’s face for a moment, trying to figure out how to articulate what he wants to say. Jesse speaks first, “I wanted to do that. You… I ain’t felt so alive, Gabe. It’s like a breath of fresh air, being out here with you.”

Gabe kisses him again, squeezing his eyes shut and pushing down the tight feeling welling up in his chest. When he finally pulls away, needing air, he touches Jesse’s cheek. 

“You took the words right out of my mouth.”

※

Gabe and Jesse make it to the rendezvous sometime after noon. It's another hot day; Gabe has abandoned his coat entirely and rolled up his sleeves. Jesse’s rolled up his serape and tied it to his saddle. Gabe keeps sneaking looks at him, still not entirely certain about what has transpired between them. Jesse is smiling and whistling, though - no signs of regret. It should make Gabe feel better. It does, really. He's overthinking things again; he can hear Jack’s voice in his head: “Just enjoy yourself, for once.”

Jesse glances at Gabe and his face breaks out into a broad smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Gabe finds himself returning the smile. It feels good. 

The copse of trees near the river provides a welcome patch of shade, and the breeze blowing off the surface of the water gives a bit of relief from the unrelenting heat as well. Gabe and Jesse tether their horses to a tree near the river’s edge, allowing their horses some shade and water. Jesse settles down with his back against another tree. Gabe hesitates. Jesse looks up, then pats the dry patch of grass next to him. 

“I ain't gonna bite,” Jesse says. His lip twitches, teasing. “Unless you want me to.”

Gabe scrunches up his face and settles down next to Jesse, their thighs touching. Jesse slips his hand over Gabe’s, head leaning back against the tree trunk as he looks at Gabe. The touch catches Gabe off guard - it’s oddly intimate, but not wholly unwelcome. He turns his head to look up at Jesse. 

“You look spooked,” Jesse says after a moment, eyes searching Gabe’s face. Gabe blinks and looks away, trying to hide the color that rises to his cheeks. He normally has better control over this sort of thing - he’s a trained soldier, for god’s sake. 

“Just processing,” he says. Jesse hums. 

“We did good,” Jesse says. “Los Muertos is gonna think twice before they come sniffing around these parts again. And I got to kiss you. It's the best day I had in a long time.”

Gabe peeks back at Jesse again. Jesse’s smiling, softer now, a slight worry in his eyes. His hand is still on Gabe’s, though his fingers twitch like he’s thinking about moving it. 

“Me too,” Gabe says. Jesse leans in then stops. 

“I wanna kiss you again,” he says. “If that's alright.”

“You don't have to ask,” Gabe says. Jesse’s mouth turns up at the corner. 

“Just wanna be sure,” Jesse says. He closes the distance between them and kisses Gabe again, soft and sweet. His hand comes up to cup his cheek, the other resting against Gabe’s chest. He lingers for a moment before he pulls away. “Figure I don't wanna mess it up, you know? It'd just be my luck - I finally get something good in my life, and I go and ruin it.”

“You couldn't,” Gabe says. Jesse’s smile turns a little mournful. 

“You got no idea,” Jesse says. He looks away from Gabe, out at the water babbling over the riverbed. The silence hangs between them, stretching on uncomfortably. Gabe second, then third, then fourth guesses himself. Finally, he puts his hand over Jesse’s again. He feels Jesse’s fingers tense under his hand and then Jesse looks at him again, wary. Gabe laces his fingers with Jesse’s. 

“I have some idea,” Gabe says softly. Jesse looks back down at their interlaced hands, a muscle working in his jaw. 

“Well,” he says, then clears his throat. “I guess that’s something.”

Neither of them say anything for a long time after that. It’s a more comfortable silence, though, each of them lost in their own thoughts. They sit quietly, listening to the water trickle over the rocks and sand, the soft sounds of the horses settling into the shade and birds chirping overhead. It’s startlingly peaceful - a pleasant contrast to the morning’s events in the gorge. As the sun climbs higher in the sky, the raid on Los Muertos feels farther and farther away. Jesse drops his head to Gabe’s shoulder. Gabe leans his cheek against the top of Jesse’s head, nose nestled into Jesse’s hair. The tension melts away like a breath he’s been holding, his eyelids droop and feel heavy. The dappled sunlight coming through the trees is pleasantly warm. He falls asleep. 

“ _ He vuelto _ ,” a voice says above them. Gabe blinks open his eyes. Sombra is standing over him, backlit by the setting sun. In his lap, Jesse is still dozing. “Morning, sunshine. Missed me?”

Gabe sits up a little better, careful not to disturb Jesse. He rubs at his eyes and finally notices a little boy standing a few feet behind Sombra, eyeing him and Jesse suspiciously. 

“Everything alright?” Gabe asks. Sombra nods. 

“The kids are safe,” she says, her face softening slightly, making her look younger, less shrewd. She sounds startlingly sincere, her voice going almost gentle. “Thank you.”

Gabe smiles. “I’m glad we could help.”

“More than you know,” she says with a nod. Gabe tilts his head to look at the boy standing behind Sombra. She turns to follow his gaze, then reaches out and pulls the little boy in. “My brother, Miguelito.”

“Miguel,” the boy says, making a face at his older sister. She ruffles his hair affectionately. It’s strange and sweet to watch - a side of Sombra that Gabe hadn’t expected to see. He has a sudden pang in his chest, missing his sisters. 

“Nice to meet you,” Gabe says. 

“Where’s your friend?” Sombra asks, looking past Gabe at the horses tethered by the river. Gabe blinks, suddenly remembering the explosions and trying to remember when he last saw Jack. He frowns. 

“I don’t know.”

In his lap, Jesse shifts then picks up his head, squinting. “Wassat?”

“Sombra is back,” Gabe says. Jesse sits up and rubs at his eyes. 

“Almost didn’t think we’d see you again,” Jesse says. Sombra wiggles her fingers at him. 

“Surprise,” she says. “Should we be worried your friend isn’t here?”

“Jack can take care of himself,” Gabe says, even though he’s still frowning. They’re not supposed to be able to get hurt out here, but the red welt on his shoulder and the very real heat of the explosions - not to mention the deafening noise - make it seem more possible than not. Jack is a professional, though, and he’s been here before. Still… 

“It’s going to get dark,” Jesse says. “We could go back to the gorge. Maybe he got lost?”

Gabe breathes out. It’s the right thing to do. “Let’s saddle up.”

※

The man in grey pulls his horse to a stop at the lip of the gorge. Smoke billows up towards him, the smoldering remains of the camp below all that’s left of the gang. He frowns: they were here. 

He turns his horse away from the smoke and rides west. 

※

Gabe and Jesse leave Sombra and her brother at the river, riding hard back to the gorge as the daylight wanes. There’s still smoke rising into the sky from the smoking ruins of the Los Muertos camp. Jesse and Gabe pause at the rim of the canyon. They dismount their horses and tether them to a fallen log. Jesse peers into the gorge, shielding his eyes against the sunlight. 

“I don’t see nothin’,” Jesse says. “Lots of fire and smoke.”

“The explosions started from the far end of the gorge,” Gabe says, still frowning. They’re not supposed to get hurt here - but Gabe’s ears are still ringing. “You didn’t see Jack at all?”

“Not after we got down into the camp,” Jesse says. Gabe rubs a hand over his face. 

“Let’s go take a look, then. Carefully.”

Gabe climbs down into the gorge with Jesse at his back, placing each foot carefully in front of the other. The path they had taken down into the camp that morning is gone, swept over with fallen rocks and rubble. More rocks come loose under his feet and make the descent difficult, but the two of them make it to the canyon floor without incident. The bodies of the Los Muertos gang members are still lying where they left them around the campfire, or tangled in the tattered tents, many of them singed from the nitro explosions. Jesse tugs his bandana over his nose to keep from breathing in the smoke. Gabe follows suit. The smoke is stinging his eyes, making them water. He has another flash of memory that he does his best to push back down before it crystallizes. He blinks the tears out of his eyes and moves down the canyon, keeping an eye out for any sign of Jack. 

Gabe pauses next to some rubble - bits of wood which must have been a crate at some point. He toes at it, turning it over. There’s a half a winged skull and what looks like a lock on the fragment. It looks familiar, but Gabe can’t place it. 

“Maybe he went back to town,” Jesse says, coming around the broken crate to Gabe’s side. “Instead of the river.”

“He knows where he was supposed to go,” Gabe says, shaking his head. Jesse looks skeptical. 

“Maybe he got lost.”

Gabe snorts. “I know how it looks, but Jack’s got a pretty well-developed sense of direction.”

“I’m just sayin’, if he hit his head or something, maybe he got a little turned around.”

“Maybe,” Gabe says. They get to the end of the gorge, where Jack was supposed to have been keeping watch during the raid, where the first explosions went off. There’s large black singe marks along the canyon walls here, and a chunk of rock seems to have been blown away. But there’s no bodies aside from the Los Muertos lookouts, and no sign of Jack, either. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Jack’s horse. “There.”

Gabe strides to the horse. It’s not supposed to be there - they had tethered their horses well away from the gorge before they dropped into the canyon that morning - which means that Jack had to have retrieved his horse and brought it here. The horse tosses its head as Gabe gets closer; it’s tethered to a stake in the ground. A mixture of relief and annoyance washes over him. 

“Well, this is a good sign,” Jesse says, patting the horse on the neck. The horse settles a little under Jesse’s touch. “She looks alright.”

“Yeah,” Gabe says, exhaling. “No Jack though.”

“He can’t have gone far.”

“Why would he come back here?” Gabe asks. Jesse shrugs. 

“You know him better than me,” he says. Gabe scrubs a hand over his face. He wishes, suddenly, that he had come to this place by himself. He never would have, of course, but now that he’s here… He doesn’t want to be tied to Jack. He wants to do this alone. 

“Gabe?” a voice calls out. Gabe and Jesse turn to find Jack walking towards them with a sack over his shoulder. Gabe yanks the bandana down from his face. 

“Where the hell have you been?” he asks. Jack grins and waves. 

“Looking for clues,” Jack says. He drops the sack at Gabe’s feet. “And finding myself a payday.”

“You know there was a reward for taking out Los Muertos, don’t you?” Jesse says, eyeing the sack. 

“Sure, but I’d have to split it,” Jack says. He toes the bag. “This was for me.”

The irritation flares in Gabe’s chest again. “Great. You’ve got it. Can we get back to the river now? Sombra’s waiting for us.”

“She came back?” Jack asks, surprised. 

“Yeah, she followed through on her end of the bargain,” Gabe says, giving Jack a pointed look. Jack waves him off, picking up his sack again. 

“We don’t have to play by real world rules here, Gabe,” Jack says. He ties the sack to his saddle, even though his horse tries to shy away from Jack’s hands. Jesse pats her neck again, which settles her enough to allow Jack to get the sack secured. “Put yourself first. Reward yourself. You’ve earned it.”

Gabe shakes his head a little. “Let’s just get back to the river before it gets too dark.”

“See you there,” Jack says, swinging up onto his horse with only a little difficulty. He trots away without a backward glance. 

“He’s a piece of work, ain’t he?” Jesse says. Gabe pulls the bandana back up over his face so Jesse can’t see the hard set of his jaw. He trudges back up the sloped sides of the gorge to where their own horses are tethered. He can hear Jesse clambering up the steep hill behind him. He doesn’t say anything even as they get back on their horses. The sun is rapidly setting, casting the landscape in a rosy, golden glow. Back on his horse, Gabe readjusts his bandana around his neck, tips his head back and takes a deep breath. “You alright?”

Gabe drops his chin back to his chest, looking over at Jesse on his own horse. “Yeah.”

“Sounds real convincing,” Jesse says. He clicks his tongue at his horse and the two of them start out with a light trot. They could catch up with Jack easily, but Gabe finds himself holding back. Jesse falls into step beside him. 

“He’s my oldest friend,” Gabe says, as if that solved everything. It should. It does. 

“He seems real interested in himself, is all I’m sayin’,” Jesse says. Gabe falls quiet. It’s a thought that has occurred to Gabe before - many times before - but hearing it out loud doesn’t make it sting any less. They’ve been through it all, thick and thin, for years and years. Jack is Gabe’s closest friend - practically his  _ only _ friend. It feels blasphemous to speak badly about him. And yet, and  _ yet _ … 

The last rays of sunlight are fading over the horizon by the time Gabe and Jesse get back to the riverside camp. Sombra and Miguel have built a fire and there’s some sort of delicious smell floating towards them as they get closer. Gabe and Jesse had ridden the rest of the way back to camp in silence, Gabe lost in his own thoughts, and Jesse perceptive enough to let him stew. He swings down from his horse first, then offers a hand up to Gabe. Gabe takes it and swings down, letting his hand linger in Jesse’s. 

“Thanks,” he says, hoping that it's enough, that the sincerity comes through his tone. Jesse seems to understand, though. He squeezes his hand and takes the reins from him. 

“I’ll go make sure the horses are fed and watered. Save me some of whatever Sombra’s making?”

“Of course.”

Gabe moves to the firelight, where Sombra is sitting with Miguel tucked under her arm. She looks up as Gabe approaches. Miguel looks up at him too, eyes wary - Gabe is sure he doesn’t quite trust him yet, and he can’t blame him. 

“Your friend came back not too long ago,” she says. 

“Where is he?”

“By the river,” she says, gesturing vaguely in the direction of where Jack must be. “I made stew, if you’re hungry.”

Gabe debates going to check on Jack for a moment, then thinks better of it. He sits down across from Sombra and breathes in the scent of the stew simmering over the fire. “It smells great.”

“Miguelito, get Gabe a plate,” she says, nudging her little brother up to his feet. 

“Ah, it’s alright - I can help myself,” Gabe says. Sombra waves a hand. 

“It’s the least we can do,” she says, voice going uncharacteristically serious. There’s a shadow across her face in the fading light, so Gabe can’t see her expression, but he’s certain that she’s not trying to play him. Miguel holds a plate out to Gabe. 

“Thank you,” he says, taking the plate from Miguel. The boy doesn’t say anything, but retreats to his sister’s side, tucking himself back under her arm. His eyes don’t leave Gabe. Jack tramps up to the campfire. 

“Is that food?” Jack asks, flopping down next to Gabe. “I’m starving.”

Gabe automatically passes the plate to Jack. “Sombra made it.”

“Oh. Great. Thanks,” Jack says, already shoveling food into his mouth without even looking at Sombra or Miguel. “We should get back into town tomorrow. Get the Los Muertos bounty and figure out the next step of the puzzle.”

“What puzzle?”

“Pariah, Gabe. We talked about this.”

“Did you say Pariah?” Sombra asks. Jack finally acknowledges her, eyeing her suspiciously. 

“What’s it to you?”

“Are you looking for Pariah?” she asks. Jack sets down his plate. 

“I’m interested in it, yeah.”

“I know where to find it,” she says. Something about her tone makes the hairs on the back of Gabe’s neck prickle. Jack leans forward. 

“You can take us there?”

“I can,” she says. She turns her head towards Gabe, the fire making her eyes flash in the flickering light. “Do you know what's there?”

“No -” Gabe starts to say. Jack cuts in. 

“It's supposed to be amazing,” he says. “Wild and intense - nothing like Sweetwater.”

Sombra doesn't say anything for a moment. Gabe can still feel her eyes on him. When she finally speaks again, Gabe feels like she is speaking to him directly. 

“After what you’ve done for me - I will take you to Pariah.”

※

The sun sets completely and the sliver of moon rises above the trees alongside the river. Sombra and her brother move a little ways back from the firelight to settle in for the night after they've finished eating. Gabe starts to get up, a plate in hand for Jesse, when Jack catches his arm. 

“Where’re you going?” Jack asks. Gabe waves the plate a little. 

“Jesse didn't eat.”

“You know it doesn't have to, right?”

Gabe flexes his fingers around the plate and pulls his arm from Jack’s grip. “I should at least tell him about our plan to go to Pariah.”

“Who said it was coming to Pariah?”

“He brought us to the gorge. Seems like he ought to come the rest of the way too,” Gabe says. Jack heaves a sigh. 

“It's probably out of its loop,” Jack says. “It probably  _ can't  _ go with us.”

Gabe frowns. “I still want to ask.”

Gabe can hear the exasperated, slightly condescending note in Jack’s voice this time, as if he’s explaining something simple to a child. Was it always there, or is Gabe just imagining it?

“Sure, ask it. Next you can ask if it dreams of electric sheep.”

“Funny.”

“It's just a chess piece in the whole story, Gabe. Don't get attached.”

Gabe hunches his shoulders and starts moving to where the horses are tethered, leaving Jack by the fire. He can only see a little bit in the moonlight. Jesse’s sitting back against the tree, gun in his lap, humming tunelessly as he cleans the revolver. Gabe can see the flash of the silver barrel in the weak light. He clears his throat. 

“Hey,” he says. “I brought you some of Sombra’s stew.”

Jesse looks up. He snaps the gun back together and slips it back into its holster. 

“Thanks,” he says. 

“You didn't come eat with us,” Gabe says, passing down the plate. Jesse takes it and pats the ground next to him so Gabe can sit with him. 

“Thought maybe you'd want to catch up with your friend,” Jesse says with a shrug. Gabe doesn't say anything for a long moment. 

“Sombra is going to take us to Pariah,” Gabe says finally. Jesse looks at him sideways. 

“Pariah, huh?” he says. “I’ve heard about Pariah. Wild place.”

“You could come with us, if you wanted.”

“Really?” Jesse sounds genuinely surprised at the invitation. He tilts his face up to look at Gabe. Gabe can only see the outline of his face. 

“Of course,” Gabe says. “You've gotten us this far.”

“I ain't never…” Jesse says, voice faltering. “I ain't been much out of Sweetwater.”

“Well, now is your chance,” Gabe says. Jesse doesn't say anything for so long that Gabe wonders if he heard him. “You said you wanted to see whatever's beyond those mountains, didn't you?”

“Yeah,” Jesse breathes out. There's still a note of hesitation in his voice. “I can really come with you?”

“Only if you want.”

Another pause. Jesse reaches for Gabe’s hand, fumbling in the dark until he finds his fingers. He squeezes his hand. 

“I'll go to Pariah with you,” he says, voice serious. “If this is my only chance - well. I'm glad I get to go with you.”

That makes something warm and soft well up in Gabe’s chest. He ducks his head, smiling, his cheeks hot. He clears his throat a little. 

“That's settled then. We’ll go to Pariah.”

Jesse squeezes his hand again. When he speaks, it sounds like he's smiling. 

“It's gonna be an adventure, ain't it?”

“One for the record books, I think.”

Jesse closes the space between him, his mouth ghosting over Gabe’s lips before he manages to find them with his own. He kisses Gabe almost tentatively at first, shyly, sweetly - nothing like the kiss after the explosions at the gorge. That had been hot and desperate, thrumming with adrenaline and pumping blood. Even the sweet kisses after they had fucked felt different from this. Gabe didn’t realize how much he missed this sort of affection. Something flutters in Gabe’s chest at the way Jesse’s touch is so careful, tender. It’s almost heartbreaking; has nobody ever been gentle with Jesse? Gabe has the sudden, wild, overwhelming urge to gather Jesse close, take him away from this place, keep him safe. 

It’s an impossible thought, of course. But this place is full of impossibilities and contradictions - what’s one more, in the grand scheme of things?

Jesse pulls away first, just enough to draw breath. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me yet,” Gabe says. Jesse shakes his head, just a little bit. He shifts back and picks the plate of stew back up. 

“I dunno how to explain it,” Jesse says, picking at the food. “But - it means a lot. I kinda feel like… I dunno. I’m doing something good, for once.”

Gabe touches his knee lightly. “You don’t have to explain.”

“Just - thank you.”


	4. Bounty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe and Jesse collect their rewards for a job well done.

They ride back into Sweetwater first thing in the morning. Sombra rides with Gabe again, and Buckshot allows Jesse to swing Miguel up into saddle with him. Jack trots ahead with his sack of loot, eminently pleased with himself, even though he complained about sleeping in the dirt yet again. Still, everyone is in good spirits. Jesse puts the reins in Miguel’s hands. 

“Flick ‘em - just like that - and -  _ woah _ !” Jesse lets out a whoop as Buckshot takes off, streaking ahead over the hills. Miguel’s shrill shout echoes back to Gabe and Sombra, who shifts restlessly in the saddle. 

“Don’t worry,” Gabe says. “Jesse knows what he’s doing.”

“Mm,” Sombra says, unconvinced. “Just catch up with him, won’t you?”

“Protective?”

“I just got him back,” Sombra says, looking over her shoulder at Gabe. “I don’t want some  _ pinche vaquero _ to get Miguelito tossed from a horse.”

Gabe clicks his tongue at his horse, leaning forward in the saddle. “Hold on then.”

Gabe’s horse takes off, galloping hard to catch up with Jesse and Miguel. Jesse looks over at Gabe when they pull up alongside Buckshot. His grin is big and open, eyes bright under the brim of his hat. Gabe pretends the flutter in his chest is the pounding of his horse’s hooves in the dirt. 

It’s after noon when they finally trot into town. Sweetwater is just as they had left it; bustling and lightly rowdy, but it all feels much more tame after their adventure in the gorge. Gabe understands, now, why Jack looked so bored when they first arrived. He's already itching to get back out there - even though he doesn't know what awaits them in Pariah. He's ready for the next big thing. 

Gabe helps Sombra down from her horse as Jesse swings Miguel back to the ground too. Sombra immediately wraps an arm around his shoulders. The little boy makes a nominal protest, but Gabe can tell he’s glad to have his sister back. That pang in his chest flares again. He makes a mental note to call his sisters when he’s back from vacation. Jack stays on his horse, impatient to get back to focusing on his own interests. 

“I have some business to take care of,” Sombra says, standing behind her brother with both hands on his shoulders. “We can leave for Pariah in the morning.”

“Tomorrow?” Jack says, the impatience coloring his tone. “We have plenty of time today.”

Sombra half-turns and gives him a look, unmoved . “Tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Gabe says before Jack can put his foot in his mouth. “First thing in the morning.” He looks up at Jack. “It gives you time to shower, sleep in a real bed.”

Jack huffs, but Gabe can tell Jack is sorely tempted. A shower doesn't sound all that bad, now that Gabe thinks of it. 

“Fine,” Jack says. Sombra nods to them, already heading away down the street. “Hey - wait! Where are you going?”

“Business to take care of,” she says. “I'll meet you at the stable tomorrow morning.”

With that, Sombra tosses her braid over her shoulder and guides her brother down the street. They disappear around a corner. Jack watches her go, frowning. 

“I'd rather have kept an eye on her,” Jack says. 

“She'll come back,” Gabe says. “She promised. Isn't that how this works?”

Jack doesn't look as sure, but that seems to placate him for the moment. 

“Let's go get our bounty, Gabe.”

“Our?” Gabe repeats, raising his eyebrows. Jack waves a hand then drops it to pat the sack still tied to his saddle. 

“I've got my loot, and you helped with the whole thing at the canyon,” Jack says, almost dismissively. Gabe picks up on that edge of condescension in Jack’s voice again - as if the whole raid on Los Muertos hadn't been because Gabe had gotten the right information. He was effectively demoted to second in command, whether Jack means it or not. 

Gabe looks back at Jesse, who’s standing next to Buckshot with a hand on the horse’s neck. He meets Gabe’s gaze. 

“I should check in at the bordello,” Jesse says with a shrug. 

“I’ll come by after,” Gabe promises. Jesse touches the brim of his hat, giving him a little smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Sure,” he says. “See you around.”

Jesse leads Buckshot away towards the Deadlock bordello. Gabe watches him go, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“Well, if you have better things to do, I can't stop you,” Jack says. Gabe tears his eyes away from Jesse’s retreating back to look up at Jack. 

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“If you want to fuck him, you can, you know,” Jack says. Gabe makes a face at him. 

“Don't be crude,” Gabe says, climbing back into his horse to hide the color in his face. 

“It might do you some good,” Jack says. “Loosen you up.”

“What’s to say I haven’t?”

“Oh ho!” Jack says. “Maybe you're finally getting the hang of this place after all.”

“Let’s just go get our bounty, alright?”

※

Weighed down with an infusion of cash and freshly showered, Gabe makes his way from the hotel to the Deadlock bordello close to sunset. Jack doesn’t even try to stop him this time. 

“Get you some cowboy dick,” Jack says, waving him off. He gestures with a fresh glass of whiskey. He looks more comfortable in the hotel bar - showered, pressed, hair neatly combed. After all the time spent in the field in their younger days, Jack had taken to corporate life much more easily than Gabe had. “At least get it out of your system.”

“Funny,” Gabe says. 

“No, really. Just so you’re not hung up on it when we go to Pariah,” Jack says. 

“Jesse’s coming with us,” Gabe says. Jack frowns, setting his glass down on the bar and leaning forward. 

“I told you that wasn’t going to work.”

“You don’t know that.”

“These things have specific stories, Gabe. Little circuits they run over and over again. You can’t change that,” Jack says. 

“Seems like a poor design if they can’t improvise outside of their normal operations,” Gabe says. Jack pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Don’t catch feelings. That’s all I’m saying. Fuck the cowboy, but don’t get sad if it doesn’t come with us,” Jack says. Gabe jams his hat on his head. 

“I’m just trying to have a good time here, Jack.”

“That’s what I’m saying. Enjoy yourself,” Jack says. He raises his glass to Gabe and tips the contents back. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Gabe doesn’t look back, frustrated with Jack’s attitude, but not exactly sure how to brush it off. The Jack that has come with Gabe to Westworld - pleasure-seeking, thrill-seeking, positively  _ reckless  _ \- is an entirely different Jack than the one Gabe has worked with for years. They’re both extremely hard workers, dedicated to their work, completely consumed by it; getting Overwatch off the ground necessitated the long, relentless hours, giving up vacation, sacrificing every ounce of what little personal life they had. Ultimately, the sacrifice has paid off. Overwatch is huge, well- respected. It's made both Jack and Gabe wealthy, successful men. And now, they’ve reached a point where they can take a step back and let themselves breathe. 

It makes sense, in a way, that Jack would be just as intense about his vacation time as he is with his work ethic. Gabe wouldn’t have expected that they would differ so profoundly in their approach, though. 

The Deadlock bordello is quiet when Gabe steps inside. The bartender watches Gabe pause in the doorway but none of the other patrons lift their heads. Gabe looks around, but Jesse is nowhere in sight. He’s not on the stairs, where Gabe had found Jesse the last time he’d been in the bordello. He can’t help but feel a small twinge of satisfaction aimed at disproving Jack’s circuit theory - there’s more left up to chance than Jack keeps insisting. 

“I’m looking for Jesse McCree?” Gabe asks, directing the question mostly to the bartender. Nobody raises their heads. The bartender - Elmo, if Gabe recalls correctly - pauses polishing a glass and points upstairs. 

“You brought him in the other night, didn’t you?” the bartender asks.

“I did.”

“Mm.”

Gabe waits, but the bartender doesn't offer anything more. “Can I go up there?”

The bartender shrugs. “Sure. But if he ain’t wantin’ to see you, I got a shotgun down here and some shells with your name on it.”

“Understood,” Gabe says, tipping his hat to him. He mounts the stairs and counts the doors, pausing outside the one he remembers to be Jesse’s. He can’t help but glance down the hall at the double doors that lead into Skags’s parlor. They’re closed - the whole bordello is strangely quiet. It feels a more than a little odd; has the news of the events at the gorge not reached Sweetwater yet? They had collected their bounty, surely the news would spread, particularly if the Los Muertos gang was as notorious as he was lead to believe. 

Gabe lifts his hand and knocks on Jesse’s door. There’s a shuffling inside then the door opens, revealing Jesse standing, barefoot and shirtless, hair damp. The bruises on his skin are evident once again; Gabe can even see scars crisscrossing Jesse’s torso. Jesse blinks, then breaks out into a grin. 

“Gabe! You came back,” Jesse says. Gabe tilts his head, matching his smile. 

“Someone told me there was a path for everyone, you know.” 

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean yours was gonna lead you back to me. Guess I’m just lucky that way,” Jesse says, still smiling. “You wanna come in?”

“Sure.”

Jesse steps aside so Gabe can come in. He closes the door behind him. Gabe is suddenly aware of how small the space is - it feels even smaller than it had the first time. He shuffles in towards the washstand then turns to face Jesse. 

“I guess nobody here heard about Los Muertos?” Gabe asks. 

“Oh,” Jesse makes a face. “Skags sent out our own people, just to be sure. There’ll be plenty of celebratin’ once he knows.”

“We saw it, though,” Gabe says. Jesse shrugs. 

“Don't mean a thing until he sees it with his own eyes.”

“I guess I understand that.”

“So, we wait and see,” Jesse says, spreading his hands. 

“I still think we deserve a little celebration,” Gabe says. Jesse raises his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth turned up. 

“Oh, do you?”

Gabe reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out the wad of cash from the bounty. Jesse’s eyes widen slightly. 

“This is yours,” Gabe says, holding out the bills. Jesse takes a little half step back. 

“I can't take that.”

“We couldn't have done it without you,” Gabe says, sincere. Jesse’s eyes haven't left the cash in Gabe’s hand. “Take it. It's yours.”

Jesse hesitates. After another moment, he reaches out haltingly. Gabe gives him another smile when Jesse finally takes it. 

“I…” Jesse starts to say, staring at the wad of bills in his hand. His fist tightens around them. He looks up at Gabe. “I feel a little queer, taking money from you.”

“You earned it,” Gabe says. Jesse bites his lip and looks down. 

“For the Los Muertos stuff,” he says. Gabe’s brow furrows. 

“Right.”

“And - the other part?”

Gabe blinks, realization dawning on him. “No - no, that was - you mean the sex?”

“I ain't in the habit of giving it away for free,” Jesse says, shifting on the spot, peeking up at Gabe from under his eyelashes. “But with you - I thought…”

“Jesse,” Gabe breathes out, reaching for Jesse’s shoulder. “This isn't for that.”

Jesse bites his lip, tilting his chin up and scanning Gabe’s face. Gabe hopes his sincerity is clear enough - that Jesse knows he's not just saying things to make him feel better. He hadn't realized what it would look like to Jesse, handing him all that money. 

“I didn't mean…” Gabe starts to say. “You’ve unlocked something in me, is what I mean to say.”

Jesse frowns a little. “I’m not a key, Gabriel.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Gabe says quickly. 

“I like you,” Jesse blurts out. The color floods to his cheeks, but he presses on stubbornly. “You look at me like I'm a person, not like I'm just something to fuck or use to shoot or -”

Gabe moves his hand up from Jesse’s shoulder to his cheek, cupping his face gently. Jesse looks at him with wide eyes. 

“I like you too,” Gabe says before he can stop himself. Hope blooms on Jesse’s face. 

“Really?”

“I wouldn't be here if I didn't,” Gabe says. Jesse bites his lip again, but he's smiling. 

“Well. Hell, darlin’,” he says, ducking his head again, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Gabe finds himself smiling too. Jesse peeks back up at him. “I'm gonna kiss you now, if that's alright.”

“You don't have to ask,” Gabe says. Jesse reaches up and touches his cheek, fingers brushing the edges of Gabe’s goatee. 

“Just like bein’ sure,” Jesse says. He presses a light, soft kiss to the corner of Gabe’s mouth. “I ain't had anyone…” he trails off, pressing another kiss to the other side of Gabe’s mouth. He leans back, scanning Gabe’s face for a moment, his expression wondering. Finally, Jesse leans in and presses a warm, deep kiss right up against Gabe’s lips. Gabe kisses back, pulling Jesse in close, feeling his heart beat in his throat. It feels like he could do this forever - he could happily die like this and never lament the loss. 

It still feels too soon when Jesse finally pulls away. He looks at Gabe almost shyly, nose practically brushing Gabe’s. 

“You wanna stay with me tonight?” he asks. 

“If you'll have me,” Gabe says. Jesse’s smile goes mischievous. 

“More than once, if I got any say.”

Gabe lets out a surprised little laugh. Jesse’s grin widens. 

“Is that a yes, then?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

Jesse kisses Gabe swiftly. “Let me put this away then,” he says, waving the cash. Gabe nods, letting Jesse step away. He looks around the room while Jesse goes to his bedside, lifting up a floorboard underneath his bed and slipping the cash into the hollow below. He straightens and turns to sit on the edge of the bed. “C’mere, darlin’.”

Gabe comes closer to the bed, stopping in front of Jesse, who moves his legs apart to bracket Gabe’s. His hands go for Gabe’s belt buckle. 

“How’d I get so lucky?” Jesse says, pushing up Gabe’s shirt and kissing his bare skin. Gabe flushes, very aware of his exposed chest. 

“Hardly,” Gabe mumbles. He shifts a little, trying to cover his chest, hide the scars he’s still self-conscious of. Jesse tips his head back to look at him. 

“Hush up,” Jesse says. He presses a trail of kisses along the hair leading down from Gabe’s belly button as his deft fingers unbutton his pants. He doesn’t even blink at the scars that crisscross Gabe’s torso, his focus singular and absolute. “Lemme enjoy this.”

Gabe huffs out another little laugh. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“I ain’t,” Jesse says. He tugs Gabe’s pants down and frees his dick from his underwear. Gabe is rapidly getting hard, especially as Jesse’s calloused fingers grip him and stroke him from base to tip. His toes curl in his boots. Jesse presses a wet kiss to the tip of Gabe’s dick. Gabe’s hands fly to Jesse’s shoulders. He looks up again. “Alright?”

“Yeah,” Gabe breathes. 

“You’re allowed to stop me if you stop bein’ alright,” Jesse says. He strokes Gabe down slowly, running his fingers deliberately over every bump and ridge. His eyes follow the movement of his hand and then he’s leaning in again, kissing the crown of Gabe’s dick, flicking his tongue over the tip, then taking the entire head into his mouth. Gabe tosses his head back, his own mouth falling open as the wet heat of Jesse’s mouth envelops him. His hips twitch but Jesse keeps him in place with a firm hand as he takes the length of Gabe’s dick down his throat. Gabe lets out a soft moan. Jesse echoes the sound with his lips still stretched around Gabe’s cock, sending vibrations up Gabe’s spine. 

“Jesse,” Gabe moans, fingers flexing against Jesse’s bare shoulders, wanting to pull him close and keep him there. It’s all Gabe can do to keep his gaze on Jesse’s mouth stretched around his cock. Jesse presses his nose into Gabe’s stomach, nuzzling into the hair there. He raises his eyes to look up at Gabe. He meets Gabe’s eye and moans again. “Jesse -”

Jesse pulls off with an obscene, wet pop, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth. 

“Fuck me?” Jesse asks. Gabe pitches forward, grabbing Jesse’s face with both hands to kiss him hard. 

“Yeah,” Gabe says against his mouth. “Please.”

Jesse nips at Gabe’s lower lip before he wiggles away, shedding his pants and kicking them aside so he can lie back nakedly on the bed. He grins up at Gabe. 

“You said you wanted a bed,” Jesse says. “So come on down here, will you?”

Gabe tugs off his shirt hastily, dragging it over his head and dropping it carelessly to the floor. He kicks off his shoes and shucks his pants the rest of the way before he finally climbs onto the bed. He stretches out over Jesse’s body, holding himself up with both arms to hover over him, aware of the bruises that have started to bloom over their bodies. Jesse wraps his arms around Gabe’s shoulders and drags him down for a deep, lingering kiss. His body is warm and firm under Gabe’s - he can feel Jesse’s erection sliding against his thigh, bumping up against his own cock as they kiss. Gabe gets his hands into Jesse’s hair, tangling in the strands, holding Jesse’s face close to his as he sweeps his tongue into Jesse’s mouth. Jesse nips at him again, each kiss becoming needier, sloppier. 

“Gabe,” he murmurs, breathing heavily. “Need you. Please - Gabe -” 

Jesse’s hand finds its way between their bodies and his fingers brush against Gabe’s dick again. Gabe’s hips twitch into the touch and his nose bumps against Jesse’s. Jesse shifts underneath him, legs spreading so Gabe can settle between them. Gabe sits back on his heels, taking a moment to look over Jesse laid out beneath him. Warm yellow light falls from the small window, making Jesse look like he’s bathed in a golden glow, softening the bruises and scars that mar his skin. His hair has fallen across his face, the color high on his cheeks, lips shiny and kiss-swollen. He looks beautiful. 

“You just gonna keep staring, darlin’?” Jesse asks. “You’re gonna make me feel self-conscious.”

“Sorry,” Gabe says, then shakes his head. “Actually, I’m not. You’re beautiful.”

“Aw - hell,” Jesse says, putting a hand over his face. His voice comes out slightly muffled. “You can’t say shit like that.”

“Why not?” Gabe asks, laughing. He reaches down to move Jesse’s hand away from his face and cups his cheek. Jesse peeks up at him, skeptical, embarrassed. “I mean it.”

Jesse scrunches up his face, the blush rising high in his cheeks. Gabe kisses him again, sweetly at first, then again deeper, and again, and again until they’re both panting for more. Jesse hooks a leg over Gabe’s hip and drags him down until his cock is brushing the inside of Jesse’s thigh. 

“Still want you to fuck me though,” Jesse says against Gabe’s mouth. “I ain’t too pretty for that, am I?”

Gabe lets out a little laugh. “Only if you’ll stoop to my level.”

“Hell, Gabe, you’re practically a statue yourself,” Jesse says. His clever fingers find Gabe’s dick again. Gabe jerks under the touch, a drop of precome already beading on the tip of him. Jesse smears it over the head with the pad of his thumb. “You gonna keep making me wait?”

“No,” Gabe says, breath hitching. He leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Do you have…”

Gabe trails off, thinking back to the gorge and how improbably slick Jesse had been with only saliva and adrenaline to ease the way. But Jesse is already leaning over the side of the bed and reaching for a little jar of what turns out to be lube. He presses it into Gabe’s hand and lies back, looking up at Gabe, heavy-lidded and expectant. Gabe dips his fingers into the jar - it feels like regular lube, in spite of its packaging. He tips forward to kiss Jesse again, running his fingers down over Jesse’s balls and back over his hole. Jesse nips at Gabe’s lips, breath catching when Gabe’s fingers ease their way inside him. He's hot and soft and tight, clenching around Gabe’s fingers, practically trying to draw him in. Out of an abundance of caution that's probably unnecessary, Gabe takes his time. He uses more lube, fingering Jesse open until he's panting right up against Gabe’s mouth, his blunt nails digging into the flesh of Gabe’s back. His cock is already leaking onto his stomach, leaving a slick trail on his skin that Gabe desperately wants to lap up. 

“Gabe - Gabe -” Jesse pants, voice going a little high and needy. “Don't tease, darlin’ - c’mon -”

Gabe leans back just enough to draw his fingers slowly out of Jesse, catching along the rim of him. Jesse whines and shifts on the bed. He spreads his legs wider as Gabe sits back on his heels to slick his cock. Jesse’s eyes follow his hand, chest rising and falling with short breaths. Finally, Gabe leans forward again, hitching Jesse’s leg around his hip, dragging the blunt tip of his dick between his cheeks. Jesse lets his head fall back against the pillow and lifts his hips into the touch. Gabe looks down between them, watching his cock slide into Jesse easily, stretching him open, feeling the tight, hot pressure of muscle clenching around his dick. He takes Jesse’s cock into his hand, feeling the heavy, warm weight of it, watching another drop of precome bead on the tip. He drags his eyes back up to look at Jesse’s face: his mouth has fallen open, his eyes screwed shut. Gabe reaches up and runs his thumb over Jesse’s lower lip. Jesse slowly blinks his eyes open. 

“Gabe,” he says, voice barely a whisper. Gabe pitches forward and crushes his mouth to Jesse’s, kissing him hot and desperate as he thrusts in to the hilt. Jesse lets out a little gasp against Gabe’s mouth when Gabe’s hips are flush with his own. “Yeah - oh, fuck, Gabe - move!”

Gabe lets go of his dick and slips his hands under Jesse’s ass to hold him up, keeping him in place as he picks up a rhythm. Jesse rolls his hips in Gabe’s hands, urging him faster, harder, taking him deeper. His dick bounces against his stomach, painting his skin and Gabe’s with precome. He grabs at Gabe’s shoulders and back, moaning his name. It feels incredible - the slight edge of pain putting a finer point on the pleasure that’s pooling in Gabe’s stomach. Jesse surrounds and envelops him, drawing him closer and closer, his breath hot on Gabe’s neck. 

Suddenly, Jesse surges up and manages to flip Gabe onto his back. Gabe goes down on the bed with a slight  _ oof _ , his dick slipping free of Jesse’s ass but only for a moment - then Jesse is straddling his hips, leaning back and exposing the long, muscled planes of his stomach as he slides down on Gabe’s cock, legs bracketing Gabe’s hips. He settles into Gabe’s lap and rolls his own hips, riding Gabe slowly at first, then building up a pace until he's riding him hard and fast. Gabe arches up into it, his hands digging into Jesse’s thighs. He's not going to last. 

“Gabe - Gabe, oh fuck,” Jesse moans, his voice rising above the slap of skin on skin and Gabe’s labored breathing. “You feel so - fuck, so good, Gabe -”

“Yeah, Jesse, yeah,” Gabe breathes. He's never been particularly vocal, but something about Jesse breaks all his rules. Jesse grinds down against his lap and Gabe presses up at the same time, making Jesse’s breath catch in his throat. He lets out a high-pitched whine and then his dick twitches and spills over Gabe’s chest and stomach, hot and sticky. “Oh, fuck, Jesse -”

Jesse keeps riding him, leaning forward to brace both hands on Gabe’s chest, fingers slipping in his own come. It doesn't take much more; Gabe thrusts up into Jesse a few more times, his legs shaking and hips stuttering when he finally comes. Jesse collapses against Gabe’s chest, pressing kisses onto every exposed bit of skin he can reach, his breathing still coming hard as Gabe’s dick gives a final, feeble twitch into his ass. Gabe tilts Jesse’s chin up to kiss him properly. It's not much more than an open-mouth press of the lips, sharing breath. 

“God,” Jesse murmurs. He pushes a sweaty lock of hair off Gabe’s forehead, his touch tender. “You're amazing.”

Gabe shakes his head a little. “No more than you.”

“Please,” Jesse says, shifting to the side. Gabe’s softening dick slips out of his ass as Jesse swarms in close, tucking himself under Gabe’s arm. “The best I ever had.”

“Oh - that can't be true,” Gabe says, scrunching up his face. Jesse peeks up at him. 

“I'm kinda an expert,” he says. “And I wouldn't lie to you.”

Gabe bites his lip. “Well.”

Jesse leans up and kisses him. He leans away enough to scan Gabe’s face, soft brown eyes, wide and warm. “D’you trust me?”

Gabe nods, not trusting himself to speak for a moment. Jesse smiles and kisses him again. 

“Best I ever had,” he says. 

“Better than the canyon at least,” Gabe says. Jesse rolls his eyes. 

“I liked that plenty.”

“But not the best?”

“Are you angling for another round?” Jesse laughs. Gabe blinks, then flushes. 

“Well, not exactly -”

“I guess I did say I wanted to have you more than once…”

“Maybe,” Gabe says, voice going very quiet. “You could fuck me this time?”

Jesse blinks then sits up, eyes bright. “Really? You want that?”

“I trust you,” Gabe nods. Jesse’s whole face lights up. He kisses Gabe hard, then pulls away to pepper kisses over his cheeks, jaw, neck. It makes Gabe laugh and pull him in close. 

“How'd I get lucky enough to find you, huh?” Jesse asks. “All these years - where'd you come from?”

“We must have done something right,” Gabe says. 

“Must’ve,” Jesse says, shaking his head in disbelief. He kisses Gabe again, lingering there, the press of his lips soft, full of emotion. Gabe exhales against his mouth. “You really want me to fuck you?”

Gabe nods. Jesse kisses him one last time then moves down, dropping kisses over Gabe’s chest, lapping up his own mess as he works his way down between Gabe’s legs. He licks a long stripe up Gabe’s soft dick but doesn't stop there. He kisses and licks his way back down, sucking at the loose skin of Gabe’s balls before he presses a warm, sucking kiss to Gabe’s hole. It makes Gabe practically jump off the bed. Jesse backs off immediately. 

“Sorry, hell, I'm sorry,” Jesse says quickly. Gabe runs a hand over his face, mostly to hide his embarrassment. 

“It's not you,” he mumbles. “It's just - it's been awhile, you know, since I've…”

“I'll go easy on you,” Jesse says, putting a hand on Gabe’s thigh. It's warm, grounding. Gabe peeks at him from between his fingers. 

“Sorry,” he says. Jesse shakes his head. He shimmies back down between Gabe’s legs. 

“No need to apologize to me, darlin’,” he says. He plants a kiss on the inside of one of Gabe’s thighs. “I wanna make it as good for you as it is for me.”

“I don't think you'll have a problem doing that,” Gabe says, letting his hand drop away from his face completely. Jesse grins, devilish. He kisses his thigh again. 

“Relax then,” Jesse says. “I’ll make you feel real good.”

Gabe settles back, spreading his legs slightly further apart as Jesse kisses up and down his thighs, running his hands over the well-defined muscles, nose nuzzling against Gabe’s balls. It takes a few moments and lots of kisses, but Gabe does relax into Jesse’s touches. When Jesse’s mouth ghosts warm and damp against Gabe’s hole, he twitches but doesn’t pull away. Jesse presses a soft, lingering kiss right up against that ring of muscle then waits, eyes raised to check Gabe’s expression. Gabe meets his eyes, mouth hanging open. He nods. Jesse does it again, pressing in with a little more pressure. Gabe lets his head fall back against the pillow as Jesse flattens his tongue and licks a long stripe over his ass. 

“Jesse,” Gabe murmurs. Jesse hums against him - Gabe can feel the corners of his mouth turn up against his ass. He laps into Gabe, working his tongue into him, sloppy and enthusiastic. He slides his hands up Gabe’s thighs, holding him open so he has better access. Every flick and press of Jesse’s clever tongue sends shivers up Gabe’s spine. His dick is already twitching interestedly against his hip. 

Gabe hardly notices the first finger that eases into him alongside Jesse’s tongue; at some point, Jesse must have gotten the lube on his fingers because his finger slides in to the second knuckle with hardly any resistance. Gabe, lost in the flutter and press of Jesse’s tongue against his ass, only notices when Jesse curls his finger, the tip brushing his prostate. It pulls a gasp out of his throat. His hips jerk up. 

“Ah - !”

“Y’ like that?” Jesse asks, lips against Gabe’s inner thigh. “Y’ want more?”

“Yeah - yes, please -”

Jesse does it again, putting a steady, delicious pressure against Gabe’s prostate. Gabe arches into the touch, toes curling against the bed, rucking up the sheets. His breath comes in short, shallow gasps until Jesse lets up. He withdraws his finger and then presses two against Gabe’s ass. It feels like a lot, but Jesse is careful, rubbing small circles until he feels Gabe relax under his fingers. He’s moving slowly - which the small remaining rational part of Gabe’s mind appreciates - but Gabe’s body is increasingly impatient. His cock is hard against his hip, oversensitive. Jesse curls his fingers and Gabe cries out. This time, though, Jesse doesn’t let up, rubbing against that spot inside of Gabe that makes sparks fly across his vision. Gabe reaches blindly for Jesse’s head, finding his hair and twisting his fingers into the strands. 

“More?” Jesse asks, breath ghosting over the length of Gabe’s cock. 

“More, Jesse, more,” Gabe pants, hips shifting to take Jesse’s fingers in deeper. 

“There, god, look at you,” Jesse says. He keeps working his fingers inside Gabe, scissoring them apart, stretching Gabe slowly but steadily. “I can’t believe you want me…” Jesse trails off. Gabe picks up his head to look at him. He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue. 

“Don’t stop.”

“I ain’t plannin’ on doing that anytime soon,” Jesse says. He withdraws his hand and then he adds another finger. Gabe sucks in a breath. It’s been too long, he thinks wildly. He’s seen Jesse’s dick - it’s thick, long - it’ll never fit, not if it’s almost too much to take a couple of fingers. But Jesse is so patient, covering him in kisses, responding to every twitch and shift of Gabe’s body, never pushing farther than he needs to. He’s deftly reducing Gabe to a trembling mess, making him shiver on just his fingers. Gabe’s dick has started leaking against his hip. Jesse leans forward and laps it up. The soft, wet sweep of his tongue against Gabe’s sensitive dick is nearly enough to make him come again right then. Jesse pulls his fingers away. “Easy now. Want you to come on my dick, Gabe. You wanna do that for me?”

“Yes,” Gabe says, nodding desperately. “I do - yes.”

“Good,” Jesse says. He dribbles more lube over his own dick, slicking himself up with long strokes of his fist and keeping eye contact with Gabe as he does so. “You’re gonna look so good on my cock.”

Gabe moans at that. Jesse stretches out above him and kisses him deeply, mostly teeth, lots of tongue. His slick cock bumps up against the underside of Gabe’s balls before slipping lower. He feels huge, pressed up against that ring of muscle, as slick as they both are. 

Jesse presses his forehead against Gabe’s, eyes angled down between them, watching his dick as he pushes into Gabe slowly, steadily. 

“Ah - ah - ah -” Gabe gasps. The pull, stretch, burn of Jesse’s cock sliding into him makes his breath hitch. Jesse lets go of Gabe’s hip to cup his cheek.

“That’s right, you’re doing so good, darlin’,” Jesse practically purrs. “Look at you - god, just look at you.”

“Jesse -” Gabe gasps, voice coming out strained. 

“I’m right here, Gabe. Can’t you feel me?”

He can - it’s almost overwhelming. Jesse keeps one hand on Gabe’s cheek and the other firmly on his hip, grounding him, pressing him into the bed as he bottoms out. He grinds against Gabe’s ass slowly, letting him adjust to the sensation. 

“You tell me when I can move, alright?” Jesse says, rubbing his thumb in the dip of muscle along Gabe’s hip. Gabe nods breathlessly. 

“Just - just hold on,” he manages to choke out. Jesse kisses the corner of his mouth. 

“I’m enjoyin’ the view.”

Gabe laughs breathlessly. He looks down between their bodies, taking in the sight of his hard cock leaking against his hip, millimeters away from where Jesse’s thumb is rubbing circles against his skin. He clenches around Jesse. He feels so full - he hasn’t felt so full in so long - maybe in his entire life - and it feels so incredibly  _ good _ . 

“Move,” Gabe says finally, dragging his eyes back up to Jesse’s face. “Fuck me.”

Jesse grins. He kisses Gabe deeply as he drags his hips away from Gabe’s ass slowly, the tip of his cock the only thing inside of him before he thrusts back into him. Jesse starts out slowly, keeping each thrust deliberate and careful, watching Gabe’s face for any sign of discomfort. There’s a little pinch between Jesse’s brows, even though the corner of his mouth is turned up. Gabe reaches up to smooth the wrinkle away. Jesse blinks then smiles wider, turning his head to kiss Gabe’s palm. 

“Hold onto me,” Jesse says, leaning his cheek into Gabe’s palm. He snaps his hips into Gabe. It makes Gabe gasp in surprise and pleasure; it’s just toeing the line of too much and not enough all at once. Jesse does it again, then again, and again, until he’s fucking into Gabe hard and fast. Gabe gives himself over to it, melting into a moaning, shaking mess, completely at Jesse’s mercy. He feels practically split in half, fucked open and sloppy in the best way. His dick, trapped between them, is drooling steadily, oversensitive. Each time Jesse’s cock grazes over his prostate, his dick jumps and pulses another drop of precome between them, smearing into their skin. When Jesse takes it into his hand, Gabe lets out a cry that takes him by surprise. It only takes a couple of strokes before he’s coming over Jesse’s fist, weak pulses of come that dribble over Jesse’s fingers. “Fuck - yeah, Gabe, you like that? You look so fuckin’ good -”

Jesse doesn’t let go of Gabe’s cock, even as it softens in his grip. It’s too much - too much - 

“Jesse!” Gabe cries out again. His cock quivers in Jesse’s palm as he slams into Gabe, hips stuttering as he comes. Gabe can feel Jesse twitch and pulse inside him. It feels like it goes on forever. Jesse thrusts through his orgasm, even as he collapses against Gabe, mouthing at his neck and jaw. Gabe reaches down to detangle Jesse’s fingers from his overstimulated dick. Jesse finally stills, wrapping Gabe up in his arms and kissing him all over. He stops, suddenly. 

“Gabe?” Jesse asks, a worried note in his voice. Gabe blinks blearily at him. 

“Yeah?”

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” Gabe says, brow furrowing. “Why?”

Jesse thumbs a tear off Gabe’s cheek. “You’re cryin’?”

Gabe quickly pulls Jesse back in, kissing him reassuringly. “I’m good - great. I’m really… I’m really good, Jesse.”

“If you’re sure,” he says, still looking uncertain. 

“I am,” Gabe promises. Jesse rolls off him carefully, off to the side against the wall. Gabe feels a gush of warmth between his legs. It sends a shiver up his spine. Jesse pulls him in close. Gabe allows himself to get tucked up into Jesse’s arms, head pillowed against Jesse’s chest. He closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep. 


	5. The Badlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sombra leads Gabe, Jesse, and Jack into the badlands en route to Pariah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Apologies for posting slight late this week - I'm on vacation for my birthday, and time differences are hard! This week we've got a touch of angst and programming issues, and some more smut of course. Enjoy ♥

Gabe wakes as the first light filters through the bare window. It's been a long time since he's woken up in bed with another person, but the warm weight of Jesse’s body spooned up against him is oddly comforting. He never used to like sharing a bed - it would always be too hot, too many limbs jostling for too little space, getting pinned in some uncomfortable position, the fight for sheets and blankets. But this feels different. Gabe shifts carefully, trying not to wake Jesse but also wanting to draw him in closer. He looks so peaceful; that little pinch between his brows gone, his whole face soft. His facial hair scratches gently against Gabe’s shoulder. Gabe presses a small kiss to Jesse’s temple. His eyes move behind closed lids before he blinks them open. Jesse breaks out into a sleepy smile when he finally wakes up. 

“You stayed,” he says. Gabe tilts Jesse’s chin up and kisses him sweetly, just because he can. 

“Why would I leave?” Gabe asks. Jesse smiles against his mouth. He runs his hand up Gabe’s chest, face thoughtful. 

“Not used to people like you,” Jesse says after a moment. His voice is quiet, almost reverent. “Nobody sticks around for much longer than they have to.”

Gabe kisses him again, aching once again for this man who’s seen so much with so little reprieve. He tries not to think about how alike they are, how they've both been used and abused for hardly any recognition or payoff. Gabe hasn’t met anyone who understands the same of him - not really, not even Jack - and it’s exhilarating and addicting and everything that Gabe needs right now. Jesse wriggles against him. 

“Mm - We’re supposed to meet Sombra,” Jesse says between kisses. 

“Can’t she wait?”

“As much as I would like to keep you in bed,” Jesse says. His fingers scrape over Gabe’s scalp, through his messy curls, tugging gently as he kisses him. Gabe shivers and presses in closer. Jesse’s lips curl against Gabe’s mouth. “I don’t think she’ll wait around for us.”

“We should get moving then,” Gabe says reluctantly. Jesse leans in to keep kissing him. 

“Uh huh.”

“Jesse -” Gabe laughs between kisses. “We’re going to be late.”

“Can’t help it.”

“You're the one who - mmph!”

They do end up being late, but, Gabe figures, it’s worth it. As it is, Jack is somehow even later. Sombra, dressed in cropped riding pants and an elaborately embroidered, dark green jacket, taps her foot impatiently as Gabe and Jesse ride up to the stable. Behind her, a dappled grey mare strains at her tether. 

“It's about time,” Sombra says once they’re in earshot. She looks between them, frowning. “Where's your friend?” 

“He's not here yet?” Gabe says, looking around for Jack. He’s nowhere to be seen, and neither is his horse. Gabe frowns. 

“Do you see him here?” she asks testily. 

“We can swing by the hotel on our way out of town,” Gabe suggests. “He probably just overslept.”

“We have a long ride ahead,” Sombra says. 

“It’s a good thing someone got some sleep then,” Jesse says. His gaze slides to Gabe, a twinkle in his eye. Gabe does his best not to blush - his training comes in handy sometimes - but he can’t help the smile that spreads over his face. Sombra rolls her eyes. 

“Ugh,” she says. “You slept together, then? I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner, the way you’ve been looking at each other.”

“Mind your business, Sombra,” Jesse says cheerfully. She puts up her hands. 

“I just don’t want to be stuck watching you two make eyes at each other the whole ride to Pariah,” she says. 

“I think we can restrain ourselves,” Gabe says mildly. 

“Speak for yourself,” Jesse says, suddenly pulling Gabe in by the waist. Gabe makes a small, choked off surprised noise. 

“Ay! Cut that out,” Sombra says as Jesse dips Gabe low. Gabe clings to him, his face hot - but also feeling strangely, deeply pleased. Jesse laughs and laughs. 

Fortunately for everyone, Jack rides up at that moment, looking well-rested and fresh as a daisy. He doesn’t swing down from his horse, but looks down at the three of them from his saddle. He’s backlit by the sun, casting his face in shadow. 

“Are we doing this thing or what?” Jack asks. 

“Nice of you to join us,” Sombra says. Jack turns his gaze on her, unmoved. 

“I was getting supplies,” Jack says. “Not that I have to explain myself to the likes of you.”

“Supplies?” Gabe asks. Jack reaches behind him and pats the pack tied to the back of his saddle. 

“Supplies,” Jack says again, but doesn’t elaborate. “I don’t want to be caught out there with my pants around my ankles.”

Sombra snorts. “A pretty picture that would make, though,” she says. She turns to untether her horse. “Let’s get moving.”

The four of them ride out of Sweetwater; Sombra leading them along with Jack at her heels, Gabe and Jesse riding side by side and bringing up the rear. The ride from the town to Pariah is at least two days, Sombra warns them. Maybe three if the they run into trouble or if the trail goes bad. 

After an hour or two of riding in what appears to be a straight line east, Jack starts to get restless. 

“How is it that people just don’t wander into Pariah on their own?” he asks. “If all we have to do is ride this way for two days, what’s the point of keeping it a big secret?”

“By all means,” Sombra says, gesturing at the faint trail ahead of them. “Go ahead.”

Jack scowls but, for once, doesn’t say anything in response. 

Gabe rides next to Jesse, keeping an easy rhythm. Jesse smiles at him, tipping his hat back to look at Gabe directly as their horses sync their strides. 

“How’s this for an adventure, huh?” Gabe asks. Jesse smiles wider. 

“Yeah, real adventuresome, this.”

“Don’t tempt fate now. I’m sure we’ll run into trouble soon enough,” Gabe says. Jesse smiles. 

“I really didn’t think I’d get to do this,” Jesse says, gesturing with one hand at the ranch land that’s starting to give way to a drier, rockier terrain. 

“I told you that you’d get to see more of world,” Gabe says. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t believe you,” Jesse says with a laugh. 

“No?”

“Hell no,” Jesse replies. “Men have a nasty habit of makin’ promises they ain’t planning to keep.” Gabe scrunches up his face. When Jesse gets a look at his expression, he adds, “But you’re different. The angel Gabriel.”

Gabe scrunches his face up even more. “Oh, don’t.”

“What? You sayin’ it ain’t true?”

“I’m saying you must not know me very well,” Gabe says. Jesse cocks his head to the side. 

“So far, all I’m seein’ is a good man who keeps some questionable company,” Jesse says, jerking his head towards Jack. Gabe smiles in spite of himself, reaching up and touching the brim of his hat. 

“Black hat and all, huh?”

Jesse waves a hand dismissively. “Black hat don’t mean nothing. You could look as pure as the driven snow and your heart could be blacker than coal,” he says. “It’s about what you do and how you do it that makes a man good or bad.”

“Even the best intentions…” Gabe starts to say, but stops. Jesse glances sideways at him, getting a look at Gabe’s expression. His own face goes more serious. 

“Look, we all done things we thought we wouldn’t never do,” Jesse says. Gabe doesn’t say anything for a long time. He thinks about all the hard limits he had given himself, and how, as time went on, he stepped right over those self-imposed lines, his resolve eroding in the name of Overwatch. A means to an end, Jack would say. But getting there is no picnic, and Gabe has to live with that. Some days are harder than others. The nightmares - and memories - that haunt his waking moments make the fact that Gabe has ostensibly arrived at that end, as Jack defines it, feel less like a victory than maybe it should. 

“Before I came here,” Gabe says, then stops again. 

“You don’t have to say.”

Gabe huffs out a little breath. “Before I came here, I felt like I was stuck doing things that… it was all stuff I wanted. Or, things that I used to want. Things that I thought I wanted, or that I was supposed to want. And coming here, and seeing all of this -” Gabe waves a hand vaguely at the landscape. “It’s painting a clearer picture for me. How far I’ve strayed, who I’ve become, what I’ve compromised and sacrificed and given up. I want to do better.”

“If anyone can do it, you can,” Jesse says with a confidence Gabe doesn’t feel. 

“Maybe,” Gabe says. He looks away. Something like shame bubbles up in his chest and he does his best to swallow it down. He wants so desperately for Jesse to think he’s a good man - he doesn’t want to tarnish that image of himself that Jesse is building up. Gabe adjusts his grip on the reins.

“Gabe, you’re the first person who’s ever come through town and told me my life doesn’t have to be penned up in the bordello under Skags’s thumb,” Jesse says, interrupting Gabe’s self-deprecating train of thought. Gabe glances at him sideways. “You changed my life that easy. All you gotta do is figure out how to do it for yourself.”

Gabe purses his lips but is having a hard time stopping himself from smiling. “That’s all, huh?” he says dryly. 

“Sure,” Jesse says. The corner of his mouth turns up too. “Except you’re supposed to tell me all about how I changed your life for the better too.”

Gabe blinks then laughs. 

“You did, Jesse,” he says. He’s surprised by how sincere it comes out - how honestly he means it. Articulating that feeling, however, is another matter. He hopes that the look he gives Jesse is enough for now. “More than you realize.”

“I think we’re gonna be alright, Gabe,” Jesse says, his voice going a little softer. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Jesse smiles at Gabe, bright and open and soft. It makes Gabe’s heart swell. He ducks his head to hide his smile. Jesse faces forward on his horse, whistling tunelessly as they ride deeper into the badlands. 

The rolling hills give way to rocky sediment, the color changing from a yellow-green to a deep, orange-red. The mesas that Gabe and Jack had seen from the train into Sweetwater dwarf them now, rising massive and solid from the harsh terrain. Gabe tilts his head back to look at the striated formations. He remembers a family trip to the Grand Canyon, where his sisters dared each other to walk as close to the edge as possible. 

“It’s really something, ain’t it?” Jesse says wonderingly. Gabe glances at him, then follows his gaze up at one of the towering pinnacles of rock that borders the trail. 

“You haven’t been out this way?” Gabe asks. Jesse shakes head. 

“Not much out of Sweetwater, remember? And not this far east,” Jesse says. He looks thoughtful for a moment. “You never said where you were from.”

“Out west,” Gabe says. “Along the coast.”

Jesse’s eyes brighten. “They say there’s gold out there.”

“Maybe,” Gabe says with a shrug. “I haven’t seen much of it myself.”

“We oughta…” Jesse says, then trails off. When he looks at Gabe again, his expression has gone soft and almost shy. “After all this is over? You and me - we oughta head west. See about finding some of that gold for ourselves, maybe.”

Gabe finds himself smiling again. He’s completely taken in by this whole experience; he can almost forget that none of this is really real. 

“Yeah?”

“Only if you want. I just,” Jesse lets out a breath. “I just really wanna get outta Sweetwater. After all this, I can’t imagine going back to work at the bordello.”

“Everyone who comes here is longing for excitement or conflict, and you’re just dreaming of the opposite,” Gabe says, shaking his head a little. Jesse tilts his head. 

“Well what about you, Gabe? What do you dream of?”

Gabe feels something clench in his chest. He wants more for Jesse too; it seems an awful waste for him to languish with Deadlock. He can do so much more. 

“We should go,” Gabe says before he can stop himself. “You and me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Jesse says, settling back in his saddle. He’s smiling. “That settles it then.”

Sombra leads them between the hoodoos and sheer cliffs along what might be a dried-out riverbed, their path taking them ever-upwards in a slow, steady climb. The grass is sparse here, and water even more so. Above them, the sun beats down on the backs of their necks. Gabe adjusts his hat and bandana as the sweat trickles down his spine. 

The heat barely subsides even as the sun starts to go down. Sombra finds them a protected crevice in the side of one of the cliffs to make camp for the night. They tether their horses to graze on some dry shrubbery while Sombra builds a fire. Jack settles onto his bedroll against the wall of the cliffs with a bottle of whiskey from his “supply” pack. Gabe sits closer to the fire. Once the horses are properly tied up, Jesse comes back to the fire to sit next to Gabe. He sits so close their knees bump and their thighs touch - it’s a small, quiet kind of intimacy that Gabe didn’t realize he missed until just now. He glances sideways at Jesse, whose face is turned towards the fire. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Jack, who is watching him as he lifts the bottle to his lips again. He meets Gabe’s eye but says nothing. Gabe looks away. He’s allowed to enjoy this. 

“Tomorrow, we’ll hit the plateau,” Sombra says, taking a seat across from Gabe and Jesse. The flickering flames cast her face in shadows, her dark eyes glinting in the light. “We’ll be more exposed out there. Nowhere to hide.”

“Is that going to be a problem?” Jack asks. 

“ _ No lo sé _ ,” Sombra says with a shrug. “Los Muertos and the Shimadas have been fighting over control of the plateau for ages. Neither one is particularly friendly, and there’s no telling who’s in charge these days.”

“So we’ll be careful,” Gabe says. Sombra looks across the fire at him. 

“We have to move fast,” she says. “Faster is better than careful here.”

“We can be both,” Gabe says. “No need to be reckless.”

“If we don’t know what’s waiting for us up there, there’s not a lot we can do,” Jack says, leaning forward. “We’ll wing it. You like this stuff, Gabe.”

Gabe makes a face. “Usually I have a better idea of what to expect.”

Jack waves a hand dismissively. Sombra looks between them, a small frown on her lips. 

“We should get some sleep. If we set out at first light and ride hard, we could get to Pariah before the sun sets,” Sombra says. 

“It’s that easy?” Jack says doubtfully. 

“You ride out onto the plateau by yourself,” Sombra says. “You can see how easy it is when you’re out there alone.”

“Nobody’s going out there alone,” Gabe says. Jack makes a face and takes a long pull from his bottle. 

“I’m just saying, for an Easter Egg, I expected a bit more work,” Jack says. “You know, to make it special.”

Sombra rolls her eyes. She gets up and moves away from the fire to her bedroll. “Just wait until you get there,” she says. “You’ll see how  _ special _ it is.”

That seems to placate Jack at least. He settles back on his own bedroll, propped up by his pack. 

“You taking watch then, Gabe?” Jack asks, already tilting his hat down over his face. Gabe makes a face. 

“Guess so.”

Jesse puts a hand on Gabe’s thigh. “I’ll stay up with you,” he says. Gabe can’t stop the smile from forming on his lips. 

“You should get some rest, though.”

“You think I ain’t ever skipped a couple night’s worth of sleep?” Jesse asks. He shakes his head. “I’ll be fine.” He leans in a little, lowering his voice. “Although, I gotta say, I’m a little more saddle sore than usual. Any idea what that might be about?”

Gabe ducks his head, grateful for the semi-darkness. “No idea,” he says. “Though I was wondering why I was feeling that way myself.”

Jesse laughs. “No idea,” he echoes. “Come on, let’s move out to the edge of the trail. Keep an eye on the place.”

Gabe gets up and follows Jesse a few yards away from the fire. Jesse picks a spot on the edge of the trail against a rock to settle in for the night. He unholsters his revolver as he sits down. Gabe sits next to him, close enough so their thighs touch again. It’s darker out here, away from the fire, but the moonlight casts everything in a silvery, blue light. Jesse hums a little, using his handkerchief to polish the barrel of his gun. A small spur on the handle glints in the weak moonlight. The corner of Gabe’s mouth twitches up. 

“That’s some gun you’ve got there,” he says. Jesse glances up, though his hands keep polishing the barrel. 

“It’s got sentimental value,” Jesse says. He holds it up so Gabe can see it better. “Peacekeeper, I call her. She was made special for me. Fires a higher caliber than most. Makes her a pretty formidable six shooter - not many folks can handle something like this.”

“But you can?”

Jesse grins at Gabe. “Have you seen me shoot? I’m the best goddamn shot Deadlock’s got.”

“You’ll have to show me again sometime.”

“Happy to,” Jesse says. “Guess it’s a little harder to pay attention when we’re in the thick of it, huh?”

“A bit,” Gabe says. He pauses. “Do you think we’re going to run into trouble on the plateau?”

“Hard to say,” Jesse shrugs. “I ain’t been up there myself, so I wouldn’t know. I’m inclined to listen to Sombra, though. She hasn’t led us wrong yet.”

“Yeah,” Gabe breathes out. He’s worried that Jack is going to do something to endanger them for the sake of adventure. Jesse nudges him gently. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jesse says with a confidence that Gabe appreciates. “We’ll see each other through it.”

“You sound so sure for someone who’s never been up this way,” Gabe says lightly, teasingly. Jesse laughs. He reholsters his gun. 

“I just got a good feeling, Gabe,” he says, turning his head to smile at him. Gabe leans in and kisses him sweetly. 

“I’m glad,” Gabe says, lips still close to Jesse’s mouth. He feels Jesse’s lips smile wider against his own. 

“You and me? We’re in this together.”

※

Gabe wakes before first light, stiff and sore and disoriented. He blinks open his eyes and tries to get his bearings. His cheek is pressed against scratchy fabric, and there’s something moving in his hair. Gentle, stroking him. He turns his head just a little. Jesse smiles down at him. 

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, fingers still petting gently through Gabe’s short curls. “We oughta get the others up if we want to get to Pariah before sundown.”

Gabe nods a little, though he’s reluctant to move. Jesse drops his hand and Gabe sits up properly. His whole body aches - between the riding and the sleeping slumped over in Jesse’s lap, he’s going to have a hell of a time getting back in the saddle. Next to him, Jesse stands and stretches languorously. 

“Sorry I fell asleep,” Gabe says. Jesse waves a hand dismissively. 

“Like I said, I’ve gone a couple days without sleep,” he says. “Besides, I liked having you in my lap like that. You looked so peaceful.”

Gabe scrunches up his face, a mix of both pleased and embarrassed, but Jesse leans down to kiss him. 

“Come on, we really do oughta get moving.”

Jesse goes to wake Sombra while Gabe gets Jack up. Jack groans. 

“It’s still dark,” he says. 

“That’s part of the idea,” Gabe says. “You shouldn’t have drank so much.”

“Meh,” Jack says, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “I’m fine. It’ll be worth it once we get to Pariah.”

Gabe sincerely hopes so - he can’t imagine what Jack will do if the whole thing turns out to be a bust. From what Gabe has seen of Westworld so far, though, it couldn’t be anything less than spectacular. This place is full of surprises. Nothing is what it seems; there’s layers upon layers of story, and they’ve barely scratched the surface. While Gabe had been skeptical coming into this whole thing, he’s a true convert now. 

Jesse dumps some sand on the fire before the four of them mount their horses and make their way up the switchbacks that lead to the top of the plateau. The sun peeks over the top of the plateau when they do, greeting them with a rosy, warm light as their horses finally reach even footing. Gabe shields his eyes against the sun, but the plateau looks endless - stretching around them in all directions, unbroken. The early sun is already making the horizon look hazy. 

Sombra turns back to look at them, backlit by the sun. 

“Ride hard,” she says. She snaps the reins and takes off towards the eastern horizon. Jack lets out a whoop and follows after her, his horse cantering eagerly. Jesse glances at Gabe. 

“Ready?” he asks, grinning. Gabe gives him a nod. 

“Let’s go.”

The four of them streak across the plateau, a blur of color against the desert sand. In spite of Gabe’s soreness, the thrill of the wind in his hair and the horse pounding the dirt underneath him is exhilarating. He glances at Jesse, who’s keeping pace right alongside him. Jesse catches his eye and grins. He lifts his hat and lets out a yell of his own, rising up in the stirrups, his serape whipping out behind him. Gabe laughs. The wind steals the breath right out of his lungs, the thump of hooves reverberating in his throat. 

For the first time in longer than Gabe can remember - at least longer than he’s willing to admit - he’s not thinking about what awaits him back at the office, what’s on the schedule for this week or next, or what might happen months down the line. All his worries about budgets and operations and personnel have melted away, his attention narrowed nicely to his present. The only thing that concerns him is what’s in front of him; whether or not it’s Los Muertos or the Shimadas who will accost them on the plateau, whether they’ll make it to Pariah safely, whether Gabe will have time later to kiss Jesse again. 

It’s a novelty to not have to worry about anyone but himself for a change. Gabe could get used to it. 

The haze on the horizon thickens, but Sombra seems to know where she’s going. The horses don’t seem to tire, running far further than Gabe would’ve expected. The plateau is wide and uninterrupted. 

So it catches all of them by surprise when the ambush appears out of the edges of plateau. 

Gabe isn’t sure how it happens - afterwards, when he tries to piece it together, none of it makes sense; one minute they’re riding hard and the next minute something  _ explodes  _ in front of them. The horses startle. Gabe’s horse rears and he’s lucky he stays seated, thighs gripping the saddle like his life depends on it. A face appears next to his horse, except there’s something wrong about it - Gabe only sees a skull but that can’t be right. The person, the  _ creature _ reaches for Gabe’s reins, screaming something inhuman or just unintelligible - Gabe can’t hear for the ringing in his ears. He kicks their hand away. He reaches blindly over his shoulder for his shotgun as gunfire opens up around him. 

It’s hard to see anything for the dust and smoke that commotion has kicked up, and Gabe doesn’t want to shoot unless it’s a sure thing. He pulls on the reins one handedly, trying to keep his horse under control. Another face appears and this time Gabe sees it for what it is: it’s just a person, with a skull painted intricately over his face. Bones are articulated in paint down his throat and over the bit of chest that peeks out of his shirt. Gabe doesn’t hesitate this time; he shoots. The skull-faced attacker shrieks and falls back with the impact. 

Gabe’s horse rears again and this time Gabe tumbles off the back, landing hard in the dirt. It knocks the wind out of him, but he doesn’t have time to let it slow him down. He redoubles his grip on his shotgun and scrambles back to his feet. Squinting through the dust and smoke, he can see the shadows of the others’ horses. Around them, Gabe can make out other shadows too - their attackers. For a moment, time seems to slow and Gabe is struck by how cinematic it looks; the way red dust rises and mingles with dark smoke, obscuring the warm morning sun, the shadows moving through it. A bullet collides with Gabe’s shoulder, sending him staggering back a few steps, the moment lost. He steps towards the shadows and cocks his gun. He fires. 

In the melee, it’s impossible to tell who is winning the fight. Gabe concentrates on taking down the skull-faced people who lunge at him through the dust and smoke, pausing only to reload. Their attackers are relentless, and seemingly endless; Gabe’s only thought through the whole ordeal is  _ where did they come from _ ?

A sharp whistle cuts through the air. Gabe looks up to see Jesse, silhouetted against the sun, smoke swirling between his legs, the breeze picking up the hem of his serape. Everything seems to slow down. Something red glints off of Jesse’s face. Gabe can’t help but stop and stare at the spectacle. Jesse raises his gun and brings the side of his other hand down on the hammer rapidly. Six shots ring out in quick succession. At his back, Gabe feels another attacker fall. He turns towards it, just to be sure. 

After that, the tide seems to turn. The smoke begins the clear, the dust settles. The sun rises higher in the sky and finally, finally, they can breathe. 

Gabe drops his arm, letting his shotgun dangle at his side as he catches his breath. His eyes still sting from the dust and smoke. He blinks away the tears and looks around for Jesse, their horses, Sombra, Jack. He spots Jesse first, stumbling towards Buckshot, who seems to have wandered a little ways away, and clutching his head. Gabe lurches for him. 

“Jesse -” he calls out. Jesse stops and turns towards the sound of Gabe’s voice. His nose is bleeding, and his hand is pressed tightly over his left eye. Gabe picks his way between the bodies - maybe nine or ten of them - to get to Jesse. “Jesse.”

Gabe reaches up and grabs Jesse by the shoulders to get a better look at him. Jesse drops his hand away from his left eye, which looks red and swollen. Blood drips from his nose, but he looks otherwise unscathed. 

“I’m alright,” he says thickly. “Are you? I watched you fall.”

“It’s nothing,” Gabe says. He takes Jesse’s chin in his hand and turns his head to inspect his nose. “I’ll be a little more sore tomorrow.”

“If you’re sure.”

“What  _ was _ that?” Gabe asks, fishing his handkerchief out of his pocket and offering it to Jesse. 

“What’s this for?” Jesse asks, taking the handkerchief. 

“For your nose.”

“I’m gonna get blood all over it.”

“That’s the point.”

Jesse shakes his head a little but finally takes the handkerchief, holding it to his nose. 

“They came outta nowhere,” Jesse says, finally looking down at the bodies near their feet. Gabe looks down too; their skull-faced attackers might be dead, but there’s no one left to explain where they came from or why. 

“Los Muertos?” Gabe asks. 

“Must be,” Jesse says. His face darkens. “Like something outta my nightmares.”

“We should get moving.”

“Which way?” Jesse says, shaking his head. Gabe frowns. He lost his sense of direction during the course of the fight, and the plateau is strangely hazy - the sun too bright, and the edges of the horizon blurred and indistinct. Gabe suddenly has the distinct feeling that he’s lost. When he looks at Jesse again, his expression betrays the same thought. 

“At least so we’re not…” Gabe says, then stops, gesturing vaguely to the bodies at their feet. Jesse nods, jaw set and grim. They both move away from the bodies scattered across the plateau, Jesse leading Buckshot with one hand, the other pressing Gabe’s handkerchief to his nose. 

A few yards away from the bodies, Gabe pauses and looks around again, this time for Jack or Sombra. Shielding his eyes against the sun, Gabe makes out a shadow approaching them. The sun is so strong up here that it distorts the horizon. He realizes, after a moment, that it’s Jack, leading two horses back to Gabe and Jesse. 

“Gabe!” Jack calls out, his voice excited, still riding the high of the sudden attack. “You’re okay.”

“Took a tumble, but nothing too bad,” Gabe says. Jack grins at him. 

“ _ This _ is what I’m talking about,” Jack says. “This is what we came here for.”

Jack holds out the reins of Gabe’s horse, which looks like she’s gotten over the spook from the commotion. Gabe rubs a hand over her neck. 

“Thanks,” Gabe says. 

“Where’s Sombra?” Jesse asks suddenly, turning slowly on the spot. Gabe doesn’t see her horse anywhere. 

“Maybe she orchestrated this whole thing,” Jack says. When he catches sight of Gabe’s face, he adds, “We don’t know that she wouldn’t.”

Gabe frowns. He moves away to take a closer look at the bodies. Each of them have the skull pattern painted on their faces, now smeared with blood and dust. Gabe doesn’t let his gaze linger too long, his stomach already churning. He spots the green of Sombra’s coat poking up between two bodies and moves towards it, Jesse at his heels. He crouches down, rolling one body to the side to get to Sombra. Her eyes move sluggishly behind closed lids before they open. 

“Oh, it’s you,” she says. 

“Don’t sound too disappointed now,” Jesse says, kneeling to help Gabe move the other body and get Sombra to her feet. She hisses through her teeth. There’s blood at the corner of her mouth, and her coat has a growing, dark stain. 

“Where’s your friend?” she asks, leaning into Gabe’s arm. Gabe turns them around carefully so she can see Jack a couple yards away. 

“We all made it,” Gabe says. Sombra breathes out. 

“Great,” she says. 

“Is there somewhere safe we can go?” Jesse asks. Sombra lifts one arm with a wince, gesturing at the vast landscape around them. 

“What does it look like?” she says. “We have to keep going.”

“Can you do that?” Gabe asks, trying to get a better look at the stain on Sombra’s coat. She pulls it tighter around her middle. 

“We don’t have a choice,” she says, leveling a glare at Gabe. He drops his searching hand, but doesn’t let go of her. He can feel her wobble against his side. 

“Your horse ran off,” Jesse says. 

“She can ride with me again,” Gabe offers. He looks down at Sombra, whose fingers are digging into his arm, her sharp nails tearing little holes into his sleeve. 

“Fine,” she says. 

Jesse helps Gabe get Sombra up into his saddle. She grits her teeth through it, but stays quiet. Jack’s horse trots back and forth, tossing her head, feeding off of Jack’s impatience. 

“Can we still make it there tonight?” Jack asks. Gabe gives him a look as he swings up into the saddle behind Sombra. 

“We don’t have a choice,” Sombra says. “We have to keep moving - Los Muertos could strike again.”

“Then let’s get moving,” Jesse says, pulling Buckshot up alongside Gabe and Sombra. He gestures vaguely at the plateau stretching out around them. “Which way?”

Sombra shifts in the saddle. She looks around as if to get her bearings before she raises an arm with effort and points. Jack follows the direction of her fingers with his eyes before he looks back at Gabe. 

“Ready?” Jack asks. Gabe adjusts his grip on the reins. 

“Let’s go.”

They take off again, their pace more urgent than before. Gabe is acutely aware of Sombra’s condition; she leans back into him, shuddering with the pounding of the hooves underneath them. One of her hands grips the pommel of Gabe’s saddle, her knuckles going white, while the other holds her coat tighter over her abdomen. Her head lolls back against Gabe’s shoulder. Alarmed, Gabe gently shakes her with one hand. 

“Sombra?” he asks. She doesn’t respond. Gabe shakes her a little harder. “Sombra?”

Sombra slides off the saddle and tumbles into the dirt. Gabe jerks on the reins hard, bringing his horse to an abrupt stop. He hears Jesse shout ahead to Jack as he slides out of the saddle and kneels next to Sombra, who’s crumpled on the ground, her face pale. Gabe turns her over onto her back. Her coat falls open, revealing the bloody mess of her abdomen. Gabe’s heart drops. 

“Sombra,” he says again, more urgently, patting her cheek to try to rouse her. He sees her eyes move behind closed lids but they don’t open. “ _ Sombra _ . Talk to me.”

“Olivia,” she rasps, her voice coming out in a weak wheeze. 

“What?”

She cracks open an eye and looks up at him, glazed over with pain. “Olivia,” she says again. “My name is Olivia.”

Gabe bites down hard on the inside of his cheek. He shrugs out of his own coat and presses it against Sombra’s -  _ Olivia’s  _ stomach in an attempt to stop the bleeding. He knows, in the back of his mind, that it’s a futile gesture. She winces under his hands. 

“Stay with me, Olivia,” Gabe says, his attention wholly focused on her. “We’ll get you help.”

“Listen,” she says. “Keep your back to the sun. A black - a black -”

Olivia’s body shakes with the force of a wet cough. Gabe presses harder against the wound. 

“A black what?” he asks. “Olivia, a black what?”

“Spire,” she says. “Like a church. Stay left. At sunset -” Olivia interrupts herself with another cough. Her breathing comes more labored once it subsided, a trickle of blood forming at the corner of her mouth. Gabe wipes it away gently. “The haze clears. At sunset -”

“I got it,” Gabe says. “Sun at my back, black spire, stay left, haze clears at sunset.”

“ _ Bueno _ ,” she breathes. She shifts, her arm twitching at her side. “Pocket.”

“Yours?”

Olivia nods weakly. Her eyes flutter shut again. Gabe dips his hand into the inner pocket of Sombra’s coat and comes up with what looks like a silver cigarette case. He holds it up. 

“Is this what you needed?” he asks. She peels her eyes open, practically panting with the effort. 

“For you,” she says. Gabe turns the case over in his hand, smearing blood across the finely incised pattern in the silver. “For - for Pariah.”

“Okay,” Gabe says, not quite comprehending but knowing that it’s important to Olivia, for some reason. He tucks it into the pocket of his pants for safekeeping. When he looks up again, her head is turned to the side, blood oozing from the corner of her mouth. Her chest barely rises and falls. He cups her cheek again. “Hey, stay with me, alright? We can get you help -”

Olivia lets out a short, hacking noise that Gabe realizes is a laugh. Gabe feels something twist in the pit of his stomach. 

“Miguelito,” she says. She opens her eyes, tears spilling over. “Tell him I’m sorry.”

“We’ll get you back to him,” Gabe says, a promise he can’t keep. Olivia knows it. She smiles tiredly at Gabe, the tears mingling with blood in the dirt under her head. 

“Thank you,” she says, the words barely making a sound. Gabe lets up the pressure on her abdomen, taking her hand in both of his. She exhales her last breath in a wheeze. 

“Is she dead?” Jack’s voice asks suddenly. His voice is too harsh, startling Gabe back to the present. He looks up towards the sound of Jack’s voice. Jack frowns down at Gabe. “Is she?”

“Yeah,” Gabe says, his voice wavering. He finally lets go of Olivia’s hands, folding them carefully over her stomach. 

“Fuck,” Jack swears. He turns away, kicking at the dirt. “God damn it!”

Gabe looks up again, looking for Jesse this time. Jesse stands a little ways away, holding the reins of his and Gabe’s horses, hat clutched to his chest with his other hand, his expression stricken. Gabe swallows around the lump in his throat. 

“How the fuck are we supposed to get to Pariah now?” Jack asks, circling back to Gabe and Jesse. “We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere!”

“She told me how,” Gabe says. “Before she died.”

“She did?” Jack asks, rounding back on Gabe. “Really?”

“Sun at our back, black spire, stay left, haze clears at sunset,” Gabe says. Jack frowns. 

“That’s all she gave you?”

“She was dying, Jack.”

Jack tugs off his hat and scrubs a hand through his hair. “I guess she’s not completely useless, then.”

“Hey,” Gabe says sharply. Jack jams his hat back on his head. 

“Don’t get sentimental on me,” he says. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere, no way to get back to town let alone Pariah. She was our ticket, Gabe.”

“And now she’s dead,” Gabe snaps. “Show some respect.”

Jack pinches the bridge of his nose. “Calm down. I get it, alright? It feels real and all that. But can we please focus on the issue at hand? We’re  _ stranded _ .”

“I told you - sun at our back, black spire -”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack interrupts. “So helpful.” He turns back to his horse and scrambles up. “Might as well get going then.”

Gabe doesn’t move. “What about her?”

Jack blinks down at Gabe. “What about her?”

“We can’t just leave her here,” Jesse says suddenly. His voice wavers, his eyes on Gabe, pleading. “The boy - her brother -”

“What, you want to take it with us?” Jack asks. He blinks. “You do, don’t you?”

“We can’t just -” Jesse starts to say again, but Jack interrupts, directing his words to Gabe. 

“Someone will take care of it,” Jack says with a pointed look. “Come on, we can’t be out here alone for another night.”

Gabe tastes blood in his mouth; he realizes he’s been biting the inside of his cheek. He unclenches his jaw. 

“Just - hold on,” Gabe says, turning back to Olivia’s body. Jesse lurches forward, dropping the reins and grabbing up Gabe’s hand. 

“Gabe - her little brother -” he starts to say. Gabe squeezes Jesse’s hand briefly. 

“We’ll come back for her,” he says, keeping his voice low. “But Jack’s right - we can’t stay out here for much longer.”

Jesse scans Gabe’s face, his expression twisted up in anguish. He nods, then lets go of Gabe’s hand. Gabe kneels next to Olivia and picks up his bloodstained coat from where he left it resting against her abdomen. He unwraps it and then spreads it out on the ground. He turns back to Olivia, whose eyes are still open. Carefully, gently, Gabe closes them with the tips of his fingers. His hand lingers on her cheek before he does his best to wipe away some of the blood that trickled from her mouth. The voice in the back of his mind speaks up again, reminding him that this is his fault - he could’ve prevented this, if it weren’t for him, she might still be alive. Gabe pushes it down, trying to focus all of his attention on the task at hand. He scoops Olivia up and lays her out on his coat, straightening her out, arranging her hands over her chest and draping her long braid over her shoulder. He steps back. 

“We’re really going to come back?” Jesse asks, voice quiet. Gabe looks at him sideways, doing his best to keep his emotions in check. 

“On our way back to Sweetwater,” Gabe promises. Jesse reaches for Gabe’s hand again.

“Thank you.”

They get back on their horses before Jack’s impatience gets the better of him. Jack’s gaze lingers on Gabe for a long moment. 

“Are you ready?” he asks. Gabe shrugs, avoiding meeting his eye. 

“We need to get moving.”

Jack nods. Without another word, he flicks his reins and takes off. Gabe glances over at Jesse. Jesse’s perched on Buckshot, but he’s still looking down at Olivia’s body wrapped in Gabe’s coat. 

“Jesse?” he asks, keeping his voice gentle. Jesse’s head jerks up. Wordlessly, he clicks his tongue at his horse and starts off after Jack. After one last glance at Olivia, Gabe follows suit. 

※

They ride hard, keeping the sun at their backs. It feels like they’ll never find the black spire in the endless, endless terrain of the plateau, but it rises up suddenly out of the haze, a church steeple buried in the dirt. They keep left, keep riding, not speaking as they follow Olivia’s vague directions. 

They slow when then sun begins to set. All afternoon they kept the sun at their back. All day, they followed Olivia’s final instructions without question. When the haze on the horizon doesn’t begin to fade, though, Jack turns on Gabe. 

“This was a waste of time,” Jack snaps. “All we’ve done is get ourselves lost even further in this god-forsaken shit hole.”

“What else were we going to do, Jack?” Gabe shoots back. “You were the one who wanted to come out here in the first place.”

“Do not put this on me,” Jack says, shaking a finger at Gabe. 

“Hold on a second,” Jesse says, but neither Jack nor Gabe listen. 

“This was all your idea,” Gabe says. “You were skipping steps to get here.”

“It’s called playing the game, Gabe!”

“Hey!” Jesse says, louder this time. It draws both Jack and Gabe’s attention this time. Jesse points at the horizon in front of them. “Look.”

As the sun slips closer to the horizon, the sky darkens. The haze seems to dissipate almost all at once. Pariah rises out of the plateau. 

“Is that…?” Jack says, eyes going wide. 

“Pariah,” Jesse breathes. 


	6. Pariah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Pariah, Jesse struggles with his programming and Gabe tries to make it right.

Bodies writhe in the streets, packed in close, flesh exposed, wine flowing in the town’s fountains. People of all shapes and sizes, in various states of undress, some flecked with gold, others decked out with feathers, dance with each other, using the parade as an excuse to rub up against another person. Too many limbs tangle together, a mass of arms and legs reaching, stretching, grabbing. Parts of the procession slow so much that the revelry practically devolves into an orgy right there on the street; men and women coupling frantically as the music blares, discordant and jarring, a steady drum beat thrumming. It’s opulent and obscene and overwhelming. 

Jack is grinning like a kid in a candy store. 

The three of them had entered Pariah as the sun set completely, casting the plateau in purple shadows. They were greeted by firecrackers and sparklers as the parade kicked off. There were so many people in the streets that Gabe, Jesse, and Jack were forced to dismount their horses, leaving them tied up at a water trough just inside the gates. They got swept up in the festivities whether they wanted to or not. 

Now, the three of them let the flow of the crowd take them through the town. Gabe sticks close to Jesse’s side, lest they get separated, while Jack drifts further and further ahead of them. Gabe keeps an eye on Jack, but is mostly preoccupied with Jesse; Jesse hasn’t said much since they left Olivia on the plateau, and his face is closed off, his jaw set. Gabe reaches for Jesse’s hand. Jesse jumps and looks around at Gabe. His brow clears slightly, though the line in the middle of his forehead doesn’t disappear completely. Gabe holds onto Jesse’s hand tightly, letting the press of bodies around them carry them through the streets. 

The procession dumps them in front of an elaborate, gilt building with more people in various states of undress hanging around the entrance. It must be a brothel - or maybe a hotel with very particular amenities. Jack appears in front of Gabe and Jesse again, flushed and grinning. 

“Can you believe this place?” Jack asks. 

“It sure is something, alright,” Gabe says. Jesse’s still got a death grip on Gabe’s hand, though he isn’t looking at either Gabe or Jack. Worry simmers in the back of Gabe’s mind. 

“I’ll get us some rooms, we can bed down for the night,” Jack says. He winks at Gabe. “You two can have a room to yourselves. Unless you want to try a different flavor…”

“I’m good,” Gabe says, making a face. He glances at Jesse again as Jack puts up his hands. 

“Your loss,” Jack says. “Come on, I’ll get us some rooms.”

Jack steps into the brothel, eyes lingering on the various bare-breasted women who lounge in the doorway, their gold-painted bodies glittering in the light of the lanterns. Gabe squeezes Jesse’s hand. 

“Hey,” Gabe says. “Let’s go get some rest, huh?”

Jesse startles a little, finally looking back at Gabe with a strange look in his eyes. He pulls his hand out of Gabe’s grip. Gabe’s chest clenches up. He curls his fingers into his empty palm. 

“I just - I need a minute,” Jesse says. Gabe lets his hand fall back to his side. 

“Okay. Sure. Do you want…?”

“I just need some air,” Jesse says, already moving away. “I’m gonna - I’m gonna go check on the horses.”

“Okay,” Gabe says uncertainly. “I’ll meet you back here? In the bar, maybe?”

“Sure, Gabe,” Jesse says, turning away. Gabe watches Jesse retrace their path to the town’s gates. Jack’s hand on his shoulder startles Gabe back to the present. 

“I got us some rooms,” Jack says. “Where’d your date go?”

Gabe shrugs Jack’s hand off his shoulder. “To get some air. He’ll be back.”

Jack peers at Gabe’s face in the light spilling out of the brothel. Gabe leans away. Jack shakes his head. 

“It’s a robot, Gabe, it doesn’t need air,” Jack says.

“Will you stop with that?” Gabe says. 

“Look, it’s probably just short-circuiting because it’s out of its loop or something,” Jack says, his tone indicating that he thinks he’s being entirely reasonable. “It looks at you with puppy dog eyes, I’m sure it’ll come back eventually.”

Gabe frowns. When he looks back out at the street, though, Jesse is long gone. Jack gestures into the brothel. 

“Come on, I got us some rooms,” Jack says. His voice takes on that quality of  _ helpfulness _ \- he thinks he’s being so thoughtful, even though it sets Gabe’s teeth on edge. “You can have a drink at the bar and wait for it to come back, or you can find some new entertainment.”

“Stop saying that,” Gabe says, but relents. He follows Jack into the brothel. 

“Variety is the spice of life, is all I’m saying,” Jack says. “You keep pinning your hopes and dreams on one thing, and you wonder why you keep getting disappointed.”

Gabe doesn’t say anything, only half-listening to Jack as they come into the main room of the brothel. It’s as massive inside as it looked on the outside; Jack has led them into a huge sort of foyer or reception hall, which is full of chaise lounges and ottomans, draped in rich fabrics and naked people of all shapes and sizes. Jack has led him into an honest to god orgy. Gabe stops in his tracks. Jack huffs out an exasperated sigh and grabs Gabe by the sleeve. 

“The rooms are nice and naked-people free,” Jack says. “Though if you wanted to join in the festivities, I’m sure nobody would throw you out.”

“What  _ is _ this place?” Gabe says, trying not to let his gaze linger too long in any one direction. 

“In Sweetwater, everything runs on clockwork. It’s market tested, palatable,” Jack says as they wind through the brothel. “Here, it’s more raw.”

Gabe’s eyes fall on a lithe young man who is, somehow, keeping four other men and a woman occupied. He feels the color creep into his cheeks. 

“That’s a colorful way of putting it,” Gabe says. Jack snorts. 

“The farther you get away from Sweetwater, the more unpredictable things become. You’ve seen it. Out here, anything’s possible,” Jack gestures back to the man and his five companions. 

“If you dragged me all the way out here for some creative group sex, Jack -”

“Don’t be an idiot. This is just a bonus,” Jack says. “There’s more than meets the eye out here, and I’m going to figure it out. But, yeah, first I’m going to enjoy some of the creative group sex.”

“What if there isn’t anything more to this place, though?” Gabe asks, following Jack up a curved staircase. The second level is open to the foyer, giving them a bird’s eye view of the illicit activities below. 

“What would be the point of that?” Jack asks. He pauses, leaning over the bannister and sweeping his arms out. “What would be the point of all of this?”

Gabe doesn’t say anything, his expression frozen in a frown. Jack turns back to Gabe. 

“Listen, if we’re going to work with these people, we have to figure out what makes them tick,” Jack says. “A place like this? It shows us what they’re  _ really _ about.”

Gabe’s eyebrows shoot up. “Work with these people? You mean the brothel?”

“Think bigger, Gabe,” Jack leans in, voice going low and conspiratorial. “Westworld. Remember how I told you this trip was for research? They offered us a contract. An enormous contract. We could spend  _ years _ in the park paying market rate and it wouldn’t make a dent in how much we’d make off this contract.”

Gabe’s head spins with the implication. Jack claps him on the shoulder again. 

“Keep your eyes open, Gabe. If we’re gonna take the contract, I want you to be all in,” Jack says. Gabe nods dumbly, still not quite processing Jack’s words. It’s a lot to unpack. 

Jack guides Gabe a little ways down the hall and stops in front of a door. 

“This one’s yours, and your robo-lover’s too, if it comes back,” Jack says. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m down the hall. I made sure we weren’t sharing any walls, just in case.”

Jack grins and Gabe makes a face, but he does appreciate the thought. For as much as Jack’s attitude can be abrasive, he occasionally hits upon a gesture that can be construed as thoughtful. Jack winks at Gabe before he saunters off to pursue his own pleasure. Gabe shakes his head a little, mulling over the implications of winning the contract with Westworld. The first thing that comes to mind is, embarrassingly, that he’d be able to see Jesse again - maybe even regularly. Gabe tries not to dwell on that thought. There’s a whole host of reasons why he shouldn’t think about things like  _ that _ , even though it’s what he wants. 

Gabe steps into the room, and is immediately confronted with an enormous bed, which is similarly draped in the rich, lush fabrics that adorned the foyer. A small bar cart stands in one corner, fully stocked. There’s a fresh set of clothes laid out on an armchair. Lanterns cast the room in a moody, flickering glow. Moonlight and lights from the street below peek through the shutters over one large window. 

Gabe stands at the foot of the bed, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. He rubs a hand over his face. To the right of the bed is a door that leads to a bathroom with similar amenities to that in his hotel in Sweetwater, albeit richer. After the long, long days out on the plateau, a shower sounds amazing. It’ll at least while away the time until Jesse comes back. Gabe strips off his clothes, suddenly acutely aware of the grime that’s collected on his skin. He steps into the hot water and lets it melt away his worries. 

※

At the edge of town, near the front gates, Jesse stands with Buckshot, petting the mare’s neck idly as he stares back out into velvety black night that envelops the plateau. It stretches endlessly before him, disappearing into the dark line of the horizon. Something itches at the back of Jesse’s mind. He can’t shake it. 

He’s been here before. 

Which is impossible - Jesse has never been much outside of Sweetwater in his entire life. He knows that with certainty. Yet, something about the way the bodies undulated in the streets, pressing in close, seemed familiar to Jesse. It was so unlike anything he had ever seen in Sweetwater. And yet…

A flash of memory comes to Jesse, unbidden: he’s here, in Pariah, standing with his revolver hanging loosely in his hand at his side. He can feel the blood trickle down over his lip from his nose, his head throbbing with every beat of his heart.  _ Thump thump. Thump thump _ . As his vision clears, he sees the bodies sprawled in the dirt around him, each of them bleeding from a perfectly centered hole in the middle of their foreheads. Absently, Jesse licks the blood off his lip. 

Even now, Jesse can taste the blood on his tongue. He puts a hand to his face to make sure - but no, there’s no blood there. 

It felt real, that memory. But Jesse hasn’t been here before. Hasn’t he?

Jesse half-turns to look back at the town, at Pariah. It’s different from Sweetwater in every way imaginable. It’s alien to Jesse. Completely foreign. 

Something in his head twinges, scratching at the back of his mind as if to burst forth. It settles between his eyes like the worst kind of headache. 

_ Thump thump _ . Jesse finds himself next to one of the fountains in the middle town, his feet having apparently carried him there automatically. He blinks, disoriented. The fountain bubbles red, the sweet aroma of wine washing over him. Jesse breathes in the smell, but it sours in his nose, going hard and metallic. He blinks again and the fountain runs red and viscous with blood. His vision fills with a bright light. He tips his head up towards the sky. The noon-time sun is suddenly blinding, shining overhead with a searing intensity that makes the pain between Jesse’s eyes grow sharper. He closes his eyes against the brightness, the pain, and when he opens them again, the street is littered with bodies. 

A little girl lies at his feet, her eyes vacant, blood running from her temple. She looks familiar - 

Jesse stumbles back a step. He can taste blood in his mouth again. There’s a mounting horror growing in the pit of his stomach. He’s painfully aware of every beat of his heart. Something is wrong, something is very wrong and he doesn’t have the words to articulate why.  _ Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump  _ \- 

“Hey,” a voice says into his ear, low and rough, a hand heavy on his shoulder. Jesse startles, turning towards the source of the voice. Jesse blinks rapidly, trying to clear his vision. It’s dark again, the sudden shift in light making it hard for him to focus. The man’s brow knits together. “Jesse? Are you okay?”

Jesse blinks again. This man looks otherworldly - almost angelic, with the way the golden light illuminates him from behind, catching in the dark curls that fall over his forehead, almost glowing. 

All of a sudden, it’s like his mind catches up with the present. “Gabe,” he breathes. “You’re still here.”

※

Gabe mostly keeps his head down, trying not to let his gaze linger on the activities happening all over the brothel. He focuses on his drink even as the sound of heavy breathing, moans, and skin on skin fills the air. 

An odd movement at the edge of his vision catches his attention. He turns towards it, expecting to see something outlandish and risque - Gabe can’t deny that he did let his eyes wander to a particularly well-endowed man who seemed to be putting on a show - but instead he sees Jesse, looking disheveled and unbalanced. He seems to look right through Gabe. As Gabe watches, Jesse stumbles over his feet, catches himself, and stops in his tracks. Gabe gets up from the bar, skirting around a handful of amorous couples to get to Jesse. He reaches out and touches Jesse’s shoulder. 

“Hey,” Gabe says. Under his hand, Jesse startles. He turns his wide-eyes on Gabe’s face, but there’s no recognition there. Something clenches in Gabe’s chest. He swallows hard. “Jesse? Are you okay?”

Jesse blinks rapidly and then, suddenly, the cloud seems to clear from his eyes. His shoulders sag under Gabe’s hand, but he can still feel the tension just under the surface. 

“Gabe,” Jesse breathes, his voice coming out strained, almost ragged. “You’re still here.”

“Of course I am,” Gabe says. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“I don’t -” Jesse starts to say, then stops. He runs a shaky hand over his face. His breath is coming quick and shallow. It dawns on Gabe that Jesse might be having some kind of panic attack. “I don’t know.”

Gabe squeezes his shoulder in what he hopes is a bracing manner. “It’s alright - it’s okay. Why don’t we… I’ve got a room, it’s quieter up there. It might help?”

Jesse glances around, as if seeing their surroundings for the first time. He blinks again then looks back at Gabe. 

“Yeah. Yeah, alright.”

Gabe drops his hand from Jesse’s shoulder and turns to lead him upstairs. He checks to make sure Jesse follows - he does, though he’s openly staring at the enthusiastic fucking throughout the foyer. Gabe feels his cheeks redden but keeps going, skirting around a threesome that seems to have spilled over onto the staircase. He pushes open the door to his room and steps aside so Jesse can come in. Jesse stops in the doorway, shuffling on the spot. 

“What happened?” Gabe asks, keeping his voice low, soothing. Jesse shakes his head a little. He puts a hand to his temple. 

“I feel like - like I’ve been here before,” Jesse says. “But that’s impossible. I ain’t been much outside of Sweetwater and - and -” He stops, drawing in a shaky breath. “I keep seeing things - it feels real, like a memory. Or a nightmare. What happened on the plateau, I can’t help but feel like it’s all happened before.”

“Jesse -”

“It’s like I’ve been here before. But it was… I thought - I saw a little girl. She was - she was -” Jesse’s voice goes hoarse, frightened. 

“Easy,” Gabe says, trying to keep his own alarm from growing. “It’s okay. Just keep breathing.”

“I keep thinking - what if there’s more? What if - what if -”

“We’re safe here, Jesse,” Gabe says, even though he can’t be certain that that’s the case. He reaches out to steady Jesse by the shoulders, chasing Jesse’s skittish gaze with his own. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Jesse sucks in a breath sharply. It almost sounds like a wheeze. 

“What if…” Jesse trails off. He suddenly locks eyes with Gabe, unblinking and intense. Gabe is taken aback, but he maintains his steady composure in spite of it. “What else is out there? What else?” Jesse asks, the quality of his voice going harsher. It comes out like a demand, like he’s asking some bigger question for which Gabe doesn’t have an answer. Gabe shakes his head a little. 

“There’s lots of things out there, Jesse,” Gabe says slowly. “The world is a big place.”

“This world…” Jesse starts to say. He stops. Jesse’s eyes, dark and piercing, search Gabe’s face. Gabe feels acutely like he’s being scanned. Still, he keeps his expression open and earnest, hopeful that it’s enough to give Jesse some comfort. 

“Some people choose to see the ugliness,” Gabe says. “The disarray. I choose - I’m trying to see the beauty in it.”

“Will you show me?” Jesse asks, another demand. 

“Of course,” Gabe says, without hesitation, the words spilling out of his mouth before he knows what he’s saying. He’s smitten with Jesse - he’d say almost anything to keep Jesse close to him. And, right now, he just wants Jesse to be okay. “I feel like things will work out the way they’re meant to.”

Something flickers in Jesse’s eyes. His brow clears a little. 

“Gabe,” he says. He whispers Gabe’s name, breathes it, his voice sounding warmer and more familiar this time. He pitches forward, crushing his mouth to Gabe’s, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. There’s a desperation in Jesse’s touch, in the way his fingers clutch at Gabe’s clothes, digging into the skin underneath, in the way his teeth click against Gabe’s, drag harshly against his mouth. 

Gabe kisses him back, wanting to give Jesse whatever it is he needs, even though the voice in the back of his mind is whispering a warning. He holds Jesse close, one hand splayed over the small of his back, the other clutching his waist. 

“Gabe,” Jesse says again, breathing it right up against Gabe’s mouth. “I just - I wanna feel something real.”

“I’m here, Jesse, I’m not going anywhere,” Gabe says. In that moment, he means it. He can forget about everything else - all the pressing worries of what awaits him outside the park, about Jack’s disapproval, about the nagging voice in the back of his head. Instead, Gabe cups Jesse’s face with both hands and kisses him again, full of feeling, allowing himself to feel every ounce of tenderness he’s developed for Jesse in the few short days that he’s known him. It’s more than just a passing fancy, a crush, a torrid affair - it feels real. It’s important that Jesse feels it too. 

Jesse kisses Gabe back almost desperately, making small noises against Gabe’s mouth. His hands grasp at Gabe, his shoulders, his hips. Jesse’s fingers pull the hem of Gabe’s shirt out of his pants and slide under to get at Gabe’s skin, the calloused pads of his fingers tripping over the web of scars that crisscross Gabe’s torso - the scars Gabe would normally try to hide, shying away from the touch, but Jesse’s wandering fingers are earnest in their exploration, curious and without malice. So Gabe lets Jesse push his shirt up and off. Jesse has seen them before, after all, and he didn’t blink twice at them. But now, it feels like Jesse is scrutinizing them, with purpose. Gabe trusts him enough to let him. It’s something real, and he’s willing to let Jesse have it. Jesse drags his mouth away from Gabe’s to look down at his hands where they’re splayed across Gabe’s torso. He rubs the pad of his thumb over the scar that bisects his chest, where a surgeon’s knife split him in half and sewed him back up. In the golden lantern light, Jesse’s face looks soft, his brow knitting together as he follows the path of the scar with his fingertips. He looks back up at Gabe. 

“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” Jesse asks, his voice low and gentle. A lump forms in Gabe’s throat. He has trouble swallowing around it, forming words. He nods instead. Jesse flattens his hand against Gabe’s sternum. “All those things, and yet you’re here.”

“Everyone has a path,” Gabe manages to say, finally. Jesse’s brow clears, just a little bit, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“And yours leads you to me,” Jesse says, the wonder clear in his voice. It’s almost too sweet, too tender. Gabe’s chest aches under Jesse’s palm. He leans forward and catches Jesse’s mouth with his own again. Jesse makes a pleased noise against his lips, wrapping his arms around Gabe’s shoulders and kissing him back deeply. 

It feels good. It feels right. 

Gabe lets Jesse crowd in close, pushing him back to the bed until Gabe’s calves hit the edge of it. He lets Jesse press him down so his back hits the plush mattress, his feet still planted on the floor. He lets Jesse clamber up over him, his knees bracketing Gabe’s hips as he hunches over Gabe to keep kissing him, running his hands over the planes of Gabe’s chest. Jesse’s hands are so careful, surprisingly gentle. Gabe trusts him completely. He gives himself over to Jesse’s wandering hands, tipping his head back to let Jesse ravish him with deep, slow kisses that leave him breathless and aching. 

Jesse shifts above him. He presses his hips down and then Gabe can feel the hard line of Jesse’s cock through the fabric of both of their pants. Jesse kisses the corner of his mouth. 

“Please, Gabe,” Jesse murmurs. “Wanna feel something real.”

“Anything you want,” Gabe says, intoxicated by Jesse’s slow and deliberate touches. Jesse makes a pleased noise, somewhere between a laugh and a moan, rolling his hips down against Gabe’s at the same time. Gabe’s own dick twitches at the friction. He arches into it, wanting more, but simultaneously wanting to let Jesse to dictate the pace. Jesse is eager, though; he reaches between them to get Gabe’s pants open, fingers fumbling in his haste. He manages to get his hand around Gabe’s dick. It jumps in Jesse’s palm, and it’s all Gabe can do not to thrust up into his warm grip. This isn’t about him right now, even though he’s rapidly getting harder under Jesse’s touch. He forces himself to breathe through his nose and watches Jesse’s face. Jesse’s expression has gone serious again, concentrating, even though the flush is high on his cheeks. Gabe again acutely feels like he’s being studied - the way Jesse rubs his thumb over the tip of his dick, the way his fingers trace the lines of veins as Gabe fills out in his grip - it makes Gabe squirm. Jesse glances up at Gabe’s face, the corner of his mouth twitching up. 

“Don’t mean to keep you waiting darlin’,” Jesse says. Gabe lets out a little breathless laugh and shakes his head. 

“Take your time,” Gabe says. “Any - anything you want.”

Jesse bites his lip and ducks forward, planting a warm, deep kiss to Gabe’s mouth before he scrambles up and shucks his clothes. Gabe watches his body move, the light from the lanterns bathing everything in a soft, golden glow. The muscles move under Jesse’s skin as he peels off his shirt and kicks off his boots. He’s beautiful and Gabe is enraptured. He can’t take his eyes off Jesse, not even when he straightens, naked and hard, his eyes finding Gabe’s again. Gabe gives him a little nod. Jesse surges forward again. He drops to his knees between Gabe’s feet, which are still planted on the floor. He tugs off Gabe’s boots and then pulls his pants down and off. Jesse runs his hands up Gabe’s bare legs, finding more scars under the dusting of hair on his calves and thighs. 

“You’re beautiful,” Jesse says, his voice soft, his breath warm around Gabe’s knee. Gabe nods but doesn’t trust himself to speak. Jesse drops a kiss to a scar on the inside of his thigh. It’s terribly intimate, and Gabe has to swallow down the noise he nearly lets escape. 

Jesse’s mouth moves up along the inside of his thigh, pushing Gabe’s legs apart to allow him more room. His nose nuzzles at Gabe’s balls and then he licks a long, wet stripe up the underside of Gabe’s dick. Gabe’s toes curls against the floorboards. He keeps breathing through his nose, forcing himself to concentrate on the feeling of Jesse’s hands and lips on his skin. He drapes one arm over his face, the fingers of his other hand flexing in the fabric of the bedspread beneath him. Jesse sucks him down with exquisite attention, moving slowly so his lips and tongue hit every ridge. His mouth is hot and wet, putting just enough pressure around Gabe’s dick to make his tenuous grip on his composure slip. Gabe’s mouth falls open and he lets out a small moan, which Jesse answers with a little noise of his own, the vibrations shivering through Gabe’s dick and up his spine. 

“Jesse,” Gabe breathes, letting his arm fall away from his face so he can look down at Jesse. He lifts his eyes to look at Gabe, his lips stretched and shiny around Gabe’s dick. Gabe catches his own lip between his teeth. Jesse’s eyes flutter closed and he takes more of Gabe into his mouth, the head of his dick sliding down the back of Jesse’s throat. It feels incredible - the wet slide of his tongue on the underside of Gabe’s dick is unlike anything Gabe has felt before; it moves against him with a rhythm of its own, complimenting the bob of Jesse’s head. Jesse’s hands cup Gabe’s balls, rolling them in his palm, putting pressure on them. He keeps it up until Gabe is squirming and panting, hips twitching up under Jesse’s mouth even though he’s trying to hold back. Jesse pulls off with a small, wet sound. 

“Can I - I wanna fuck you, Gabe,” Jesse says, his voice still quiet, a little rougher than before. Gabe nods desperately. 

“Yeah - god, yeah. Please.” 

Jesse makes a pleased noise deep in his chest that makes Gabe’s stomach go molten hot. Jesse’s hands are on his thighs again, spreading his legs further apart, and then he ducks down to press his face between Gabe’s cheeks. Gabe nearly bucks off the bed at the first slick press of Jesse’s tongue against his hole, the color spreading over his face and down his chest. Jesse doesn’t give him much time to adjust - he presses his face in closer, his tongue working inside of Gabe without any hesitation. His mouth makes sloppy, wet noises against his ass. It’s obscene but Gabe can’t get enough of it. He tilts his hips up into Jesse’s face, one hand coming down to twist in Jesse’s hair. Jesse slips his hands under Gabe and squeezes his ass, spreading his cheeks further apart so he can get his tongue in deeper. Jesse moans right up against him. It sends a shiver up Gabe’s spine. 

“Jesse - Jesse - Jesse -” Gabe pants, twisting a little under Jesse’s grip. “More, more,  _ more _ -”

Jesse pulls away, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth. “Yeah, don’t worry. I got you.”

Jesse gets up, leaving Gabe draped over the edge of bed, and moves to the nightstand. He opens a drawer and digs around for a moment before he comes up with a jar similar to the one he had in his own room back in Sweetwater. He leaves it on the nightstand. Gabe feels the bed dip under Jesse’s weight and then he’s being hauled up the bed by the arms. It shouldn’t make his spine go tingly, but nobody’s manhandled him like that in  _ years _ and Gabe is shocked to admit he likes it. Jesse moves him like he weighs nothing at all. It’s fucking  _ hot _ . 

When Jesse finally settles over Gabe, their chests pressed together, Gabe’s dick trapped and leaking between their stomachs, Gabe tips his head up to look at him, eyes bright. Jesse holds his gaze, almost like he’s committing Gabe’s face to memory. One hand comes up and smooths Gabe’s hair off his forehead. 

“Gabe,” Jesse breathes after a moment. “Can I…?”

“Anything you want,” Gabe says again with a little nod. “Please, I need you.”

Jesse kisses him hard. Their teeth click together but Jesse is undeterred. He sucks Gabe’s lower lip into his mouth, sucking on it until it’s swollen and deliciously sore. He keeps kissing him even as his legs nudge Gabe’s apart, making space to settle between them. Gabe feels Jesse’s erection press against the underside of his balls. He resists bearing down - just barely - wanting to let Jesse take what he needs, wanting to let him feel like he has control for once. 

Gabe gives himself up to it. He’s happy to  _ not _ be in control, for once. 

Jesse reaches for the jar of lube from the nightstand, pulling away from Gabe’s mouth only for as long as it takes to open the jar and slick his fingers. The cool press of Jesse’s fingers against Gabe’s ass makes him jump, but Jesse is gentle, his touch deliberate. He rubs against Gabe’s hole until he relaxes back on the sheets. Two fingers press in as Jesse sweeps his tongue into Gabe’s mouth, tasting him. Gabe’s breath hitches. He reaches up and wraps his arms around Jesse’s shoulders, holding him close, tilting his hips underneath him to give Jesse a better angle. Jesse makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat. He pulls his fingers away, leaving a slick trail along the inside of Gabe’s cheeks before the blunt tip of Jesse’s cock replaces his fingers. Gabe bites down on Jesse’s lip as Jesse pushes into him. It makes a surprised noise fall from Jesse’s mouth. He thrusts the rest of the way in, hard, not waiting for Gabe to adjust before he pulls back out and slams back into him. Gabe’s mouth falls open, his head falling back against the bed as Jesse fucks into him with steady, powerful rolls of his hips. Gabe is sore from days of riding, not to mention their enthusiastic night from just a few days ago, so Jesse feels huge, stretching him obscenely. The slight edge of pain only highlights the pleasure that courses through his body, building in the pit of his stomach and radiating out, hot and tingly. 

Jesse’s hands are everywhere. He presses as much of his body against Gabe as he can, driving each thrust as deep into Gabe as possible, never once letting too much space get between them. His mouth has claimed Gabe’s for its own, his lips and tongue and teeth stealing Gabe’s breath away. 

Gabe is rapidly becoming overwhelmed; the heady lack of air and the intensity with which Jesse fucks into him - as deep as he can go, then pulling out until just the tip holds Gabe open, before he plunges back into him - is almost too much. The room is warm and Gabe’s skin is already beading with sweat, making his chest slide against Jesse’s. He lifts up in time to Jesse’s thrusts, clenching around his cock with each stroke, gasping his name when he has enough air to spare. His hands clutch at Jesse’s shoulders, his nails digging into his flesh. His dick is trapped between them and already leaking steadily. It’s like Jesse knows, instinctively, just how much pressure and friction he can put on it with his chest to keep Gabe trembling at the edge. 

In one fluid movement, Jesse pulls away completely, rising up on his knees between Gabe’s legs. Gabe blinks up at him dumbly for a moment before Jesse’s strong hands grab Gabe up and flip him over. Gabe exhales in a surprised  _ oof _ . Jesse slips his hands under Gabe’s hips and pulls his ass into the air, kneeling behind him. The idea connects with Gabe’s syrupy slow brain. He scrambles for better purchase on his knees, tilting his ass up to Jesse, who runs a hand over his flank. 

“God,” Jesse murmurs, his voice husky. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Gabe presses his face into the sheets, his cheeks hot. Jesse thrusts back into Gabe with a sharp jab of his hips. The moan that falls from Gabe’s mouth is muffled by the sheets. Jesse hunches over him, flattening his chest over Gabe’s back, his cheek pressed against his shoulder blade, breath hot on Gabe’s damp skin. The new angle sends Jesse’s dick right into Gabe’s prostate. Somehow, Jesse is able to put just the right amount of pressure against it; quick, shallow thrusts tease Gabe with the promise of more, making him writhe and try to get Jesse’s cock where he needs it, but Jesse’s hands hold Gabe’s hips tight, keeping him in place as his teeth scrape over Gabe’s shoulder. Jesse strings Gabe along, pulling him right to the edge but never over. It feels so good Gabe could almost cry. As it is, Jesse has reduced him to a whimpering mess, his gasps and moans hardly muffled by the sheets anymore. Jesse, who’s mostly stayed quiet except for heavy pants of breath as he chases his own orgasm, lets out a little moan of his own into Gabe’s ear. 

“You feel so good, Gabe,” he murmurs, breath hitching on Gabe’s name. “I can’t believe - so fuckin’ good for me -”

Gabe nods breathlessly, unable to form a coherent sentence. Jesse’s hands slide up his waist. His arms circle Gabe’s chest, pulling his back flush against Jesse’s front, one hand splayed directly over Gabe’s heart. 

“Like you were made for me,” Jesse says. “So good, Gabe. You’re gonna make me come - fuck, Gabe, you make me feel so good.”

“Please,” Gabe manages to choke out, his voice coming out needier than he means it to, Jesse’s praise coiling hotly in his gut. Jesse ruts into him, the tip of his cock driving right into his prostate over and over again. Gabe clenches all around his girth and then, all of a sudden, his orgasm punches out of him. He cries out, his voice breaking halfway through, as his cock spurts onto the sheets beneath him. Gabe shakes and tries to suck in a breath, his ears ringing with the force of his orgasm. Above him, Jesse moans, long and low. 

“Fuck, Gabe,” Jesse says. “Fuck -  _ fuck _ -!”

He comes hard, slamming as deep into Gabe as he can go and holding there as his dick pulses inside of Gabe. It feels like it goes on forever, filling up Gabe hot and messy. Jesse’s cheek is pressed against Gabe’s shoulder blade. He can feel Jesse’s lips mouthing at the skin there, almost a kiss but not quite, the angle wrong. Jesse’s hips move in little nudges against his ass and then, finally, he goes heavy and limp against Gabe’s back. Gabe’s thighs give out and he collapses onto the sheets, the cooling wet spot pressing into his own stomach. 

They lie like that for a long time, listening to each other’s breathing. The blood is still rushing in Gabe’s ears, and his heart is pounding in his chest like he’s run a marathon. He can’t bring himself to move. 

Jesse moves first. He pulls away, carefully, his dick slipping out of Gabe’s ass with a trickle of come that runs down Gabe’s balls. Gabe shivers at the sudden loss of Jesse’s hot skin against his. He’s only gone for a moment, the bed dipping under his weight and then a cool, damp cloth running up the inside of his leg. Gabe lets his eyes slip closed. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Gabe murmurs. The bed dips away and then Jesse spoons up against him, pulling Gabe against his chest. The way Jesse’s bulk brackets him is wholly unfamiliar, but not at all unwelcome - Gabe’s not used to being the little spoon. 

“I wanted to,” Jesse says. He presses a kiss into the sweaty curls at the top of Gabe’s head. Gabe hides his face in the crook of Jesse’s arm, trying (and failing) to keep the smile off of his lips. Jesse makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat. His arm is heavy where it’s draped over his side and, in spite of the wet spot underneath him, Gabe finds himself drifting off, safe and warm. 

“Gabe?” Jesse asks, his voice quiet. Gabe doesn’t lift his head, doesn’t even open his eyes. 

“Mm?”

“Have you…” he pauses. “Have you ever been in love?”

Gabe is suddenly wide awake. He doesn’t say anything for a long time. He feels Jesse stiffen. Before he can pull away, Gabe picks up his head to look at him. 

“Once,” Gabe says carefully. Jesse looks down at him, eyes wary. 

“Do you still love him?”

“No. Not really.”

“What happened?”

“He stopped loving me,” Gabe says. It’s almost the truth - or at least part of it. How is he supposed to explain to Jesse that he was at fault? That he worked too hard, hid too much, was too scared to really let himself open up, be vulnerable, to trust another person? It ended in disaster, because of course it did - there was no other way for that relationship to end. Gabe only has himself to blame. 

Jesse is scanning Gabe’s face, that little furrow between his brows pinched again. Gabe prepares himself for the worst, for the inevitable rejection, the disappointment, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Jesse touches Gabe’s cheek, almost tentative. 

“What does it feel like?”

“What? Love?”

Jesse nods. Gabe lets his breath out slowly. 

“It’s - it’s hard to explain,” he says. Jesse frowns. 

“That’s a cop out.”

Gabe shakes his head. “Really - everyone feels it differently. It can be scary like you’re falling, but then you feel weightless and invulnerable. You’re safe, you’re not alone, you feel like you’re... home.”

Jesse is still looking at Gabe, his gaze piercing. Gabe can’t bring himself to look away. 

“Have you ever been in love?” Gabe asks, his voice coming out softer, more tentative than he means it to. 

“I’m… not sure,” Jesse says. Gabe swallows thickly, almost afraid to breathe. After a moment, Jesse leans in and presses a small, soft kiss to Gabe’s mouth. Gabe lets his eyes slide shut. He has to ignore the way his heart thumps in his chest, the way his stomach flutters at the gentle touch. 

“You’ll know it when you feel it,” Gabe says as Jesse pulls away, just enough to rest his forehead against Gabe’s. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

※

Morning comes too soon, the light peeking through the heavy drapes they neglected to shut all the way the night before. Gabe shifts and is greeted with an ache that pulls at his muscles. He turns his head to find Jesse’s arm still wrapped around him, his nose pressed into the hair at Gabe’s temple. Gabe stops moving and lets his eyes slide closed again. He wants to enjoy this, commit it to memory: the way Jesse’s chest rises and falls against his side, his warm bulk surrounding and enveloping Gabe, his breath barely stirring Gabe’s curls. 

“Mornin’,” Jesse says, voice low and sleepy. Gabe tilts his head back to look at his face. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Gabe says. Jesse leans in and kisses him. Gabe can’t help the smile that curls his lips. 

“Should probably get up anyway,” Jesse says. He rolls onto his back and stretches, arms reaching up behind him before he folds them behind his head. His gaze falls on Gabe. Gabe would give anything to know what he’s thinking. 

“How did you sleep?” Gabe asks. Jesse blinks, then shrugs. 

“About as good as I ever sleep,” Jesse says. 

“Do you at least… do you feel better?” Gabe asks, not sure how to put it, not sure if Jesse wants to talk about it, not sure if it’s something Gabe should pry into. Jesse looks back at him from the corner of his eye. 

“Darlin’,” he says. “You make me feel god damn incredible.”

He leans back down and presses his mouth to Gabe’s. Gabe lets himself melt into it and forget the worry, at least for the moment. 

“I can go get us some breakfast,” Gabe suggests when Jesse finally pulls away. 

“Sure,” Jesse says. Gabe starts to get up, ignoring the protest from his aching muscles. Jesse’s hand catches Gabe’s wrist before he gets too far. He pulls him down and back, catching his mouth in a kiss. “Hurry back,” Jesse says, right against Gabe’s lips. 

Gabe finds a robe hanging on a hook and belts it around his waist before he ventures out of their room. He has a spring in his step in spite of the soreness between his legs. 

The brothel is quiet after the previous night’s revelries. Here and there, still-naked couples and triples and more are draped over the hotel furniture, but it’s still too early for them to do much more than sleep. Gabe skirts around them, looking for a dining room, or maybe a staff member -

“Gabe! You’re up early.”

Gabe turns to the sound of Jack’s voice. He’s strolling in from the brothel’s front doors, fully dressed, if not a little rumpled. The buttons of his shirt are mostly undone, hanging open to expose his bare chest underneath. It looks like he didn’t sleep much the night before, though it doesn’t seem to put a damper on the grin that spreads over his face. 

“Jack,” Gabe says, surprised. Jack looks Gabe up and down, taking in the robe. Gabe tugs the belt a little tighter around his waist. 

“Good night?” Jack asks, grinning. 

“You could say that,” Gabe says mildly. Jack laughs. 

“Good - good. I’m glad you got a piece of that,” Jack says. “It means you can keep your head clear for this next part.”

“Next part?” Gabe echoes, eyeing Jack suspiciously. 

“The game,” Jack says patiently. “Weren’t you listening at all?”

Gabe doesn’t say anything. He should’ve known better; Jack almost always has more plans than what he lets on. It’s an irritating habit of his - keeping the whole picture from Gabe until absolutely necessary. He should have known that it would apply here too. 

“I have an appointment with the Shimada clan,” Jack goes on when Gabe doesn’t any anything. “You did all the heavy lifting with Deadlock, but it’s different here. Seducing one of the Shimadas doesn’t work. Although, I guess, you’re welcome to try.”

Gabe makes a face. Jack claps him on the shoulder. 

“I’m teasing, Gabe,” he says. “I’m glad you’re starting to lighten up, really.”

“So what does the - what do they have to do with us?”

“The next piece of the puzzle,” Jack says, eyes shiny. “It’s better than I thought. This place - we  _ have _ to get this contract, Gabe. The possibilities are incredible.”

“You’re not answering my question,” Gabe says. “What are we getting into now?”

“The biggest game in the park,” Jack says. “The war.”

Gabe feels something clench up in his chest. He looks at Jack, but the excitement on Jack’s face is clear and unadulterated - he’s all in. 

“You know, you got me to come on this trip because it was supposed to be a vacation,” Gabe says. Jack rolls his eyes. 

“You’re having a good time, aren’t you? You got your dick wet, we’re having an adventure,” Jack says. “It’s all in good fun. The stakes here, in the park, aren’t real, Gabe. What goes on out there - that’s where your head should be, alright? Just keep remembering that.”

“Yeah,” Gabe says unconvincingly. He does have to force himself to remember that this is all just an elaborate fantasy - no matter how  _ real  _ certain aspects of the whole thing feels to him. Jack peers closer at him. 

“Oh, fuck,” Jack says, shaking his head. “It’s a game, Gabe, stick with me here. Don’t catch feelings for the robot.”

Gabe’s hand clenches at his side, his jaw tightening. Jack grabs Gabe’s shoulder, chasing his eyes with his own. 

“Listen to me,” Jack says. “I know how you get. I know it’s been a long time for you. You think I don’t listen, but I do. You can’t let yourself fall for the first thing that shows you a little bit of interest - especially when they’re programmed to show interest in you. You deserve more than that. You deserve something real.”

Gabe shrugs Jack’s hand off his shoulder and looks away, resentment and embarrassment burning in his chest. Jack lets his hand drop back to his side. 

“I mean it. You’re a catch,” Jack says, his voice going softer. He means well, but something about it stings. 

“Don’t,” Gabe says. He shakes his head. 

“You’ve got to hear what I’m saying though, Gabe. At the end of the day - when all this is over and we go back to our real lives and our real jobs - that robot isn’t going to remember who you are. They wipe ‘em clean. It’ll be like you never happened to it. And you’ve gotta go back to reality.”

“It’s not…” Gabe says, then stops. Jack quirks up an eyebrow, his lips twisting into an unhappy grimace. 

“What? It’s not like that? It’s not the same?  _ Your _ robot is different?”

Gabe doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to - Jack’s already said it all, and now he feels like a fool for even thinking it. Jack lets his breath out in a frustrated sigh. 

“Listen,” Jack says. “I’m not saying you can’t have a good time, alright? Get it all out of your system. Enjoy it. But you have to snap back to reality.”

Gabe turns on his heel and starts to walk away. He doesn’t want to have this conversation with Jack any more. He doesn’t  _ understand _ .

“Gabe, for fuck’s sake -”

Gabe stops and whirls back around. 

“What? What do you want me to say?” he snaps. “You’re suddenly so full of reasonable advice, and what? I’m just supposed to listen to you? Where were you when my life fell apart? Where were all your smart words then, huh? I was drowning, Jack, and you just kept on pushing. There wasn’t any time to pick up the pieces because Overwatch came first and foremost and it ruined me. What do I have left to show for it?” Gabe sucks in a breath, his shoulders heaving. “Fuck you. Let me have this one thing without you pushing me past my limit.”

“That’s the tack you're going to take?” Jack says with a little disbelieving laugh. “Gosh and golly gee, I’m so sorry I made you become a fucking millionaire. Life must be  _ so  _ hard for you.”

“This isn’t about that,” Gabe shoots back. “You don’t listen to me.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do,” Gabe says automatically, out of habit. He presses his lips together abruptly. He does trust Jack,  _ he does _ , but for Jack to play that card right now… Gabe lowers his voice. “Don’t start that.”

Jack closes the distance between them in two steps, getting right up into Gabe’s face. Gabe can smell the stale liquor on his breath but he holds his ground. 

“After everything we’ve been through,” Jack says, his voice low and dangerous. “I have dragged you with me every step of the way - don’t throw it back in my face just because of your little fantasy romance. We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t do everything I needed to do to get us here.”

Gabe sets his jaw, gritting his teeth. He could throw a punch - he  _ wants _ to throw a punch, scrap with Jack like they’re 20 years old again, their tempers flaring, going toe to toe over small things and then, later, going back to normal like nothing ever happened. But this feels bigger than the things they used to fight about. There’s something more to this, something that’s been brewing just under the surface and is starting to rise to the top. The cracks are beginning to show. 

“Yeah,” Gabe says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m the deadweight you just keep dragging around.”

Jack jabs a finger into Gabe’s chest. “You don’t want me to start shit? Then don’t you start shit either,” he says. “We are  _ so close _ to making something real of ourselves, Gabe. We’re going to be two of the most powerful people in the world. Don’t suddenly get cold feet now. I’m not going to let you ruin this for us.”

“Do you ever stop to think that there might be more than just…” Gabe trails off, waving a hand, gesturing at nothing. “Winning, all the time? Do you ever stop to think about what it costs us?”

“Don’t you realize that it doesn’t matter when we finally achieve what we’ve set out to do?” Jack says. Gabe look at Jack, holding his gaze for a long, long moment. It feels, suddenly, like he’s really seeing Jack for the first time. Finally, Gabe lets out a breath and looks away. Jack grips Gabe’s shoulder again, just on the edge of too hard. “Listen to me, Gabe,” he says, his voice low and urgent. “Trust me, alright?”

Gabe rubs a hand over his face. He feels like he’s lost, though he isn’t sure what it’s cost him yet. 

“Yeah. Alright.”

“Good,” Jack says, satisfied. He drops his hand from Gabe’s shoulder. “So you want to do this thing with me or not? You can even bring your robot lover.”

“What?” Gabe asks, his brain still not quite caught up. He needs coffee, he needs to clear his head, to get away from Jack and collect his thoughts. 

“The Shimada clan - remember? I have an appointment. We’re partners, right? We should be doing this together,” Jack says. 

“Fine,” Gabe says. “Sure.” 

He’s pretty sure he’d say anything at this point, so long as it gets to stop talking. If Jack notices - or cares - he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he grins at Gabe. 

“Great,” Jack says. “I’ll see you at noon.” 

※

The haze has settled over the plateau again, blurring the lines of the horizon until sky and sand are practically one. The man in grey rides in a steady, unwavering line. He knows the route by memory - he doesn’t need a guide. He sits atop his white horse, back straight and eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat. 

In the vast expanse of the plateau, the man in grey cuts a lonely figure. 

As the man rides on, a dark smudge interrupts the unbroken haze. The man changes course just slightly to intercept the shadow. When his horse draws nearer, the man realizes the dark smudge is a person. He slides down from his horse and crouches down in the dirt next to it. 

“Well,” the man in grey says. “I hoped I’d find you here, Sombra.”

Sombra’s face turns up to look at the man. Her lips are chapped and bloodied, her eye swollen shut, her hair matted with blood and dirt. 

“You,” she rasps. 

“You remember me,” the man says, a pleased note to his low voice. “I remember you too, Olivia.”

She tries to run, but her body is too broken to move quickly. The man in grey catches her easily, slinging her over his shoulder. She struggles as much as she can, but the effort is too much, and the man is too strong. 

“I thought we were old friends,” the man in grey says, feigning hurt as he lashed Olivia to his saddle. She spits at him. The man pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes his face. “I could leave you here to die, would you prefer that?”

Olivia doesn’t say anything. The man in grey nods. He folds his handkerchief carefully, taking his time. He tucks it back into his pocket. 

“That’s what I thought,” he says. He swings up in the saddle behind her and leans down to speak directly into her ear, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re coming with me to Pariah.”

※

Gabe and Jesse follow Jack through Pariah just before noon. In the light of day, the town looks different. The sheen from the previous night’s festivities has worn off, revealing the town for what it really is: a rough and tumble sort of place, where outlaws thrive and rules are meant to be broken. The streets hum with unseen threats - the danger that lurks just around the corner is almost palpable. Gabe finds himself walking a step closer to Jesse than he strictly needs to, letting Jack lead the way ahead of them. He glances at Jesse, who’s looking at the dusty streets and stalls with a strange, faraway look on his face. He nudges him gently with his shoulder. 

“Alright?” Gabe asks, voice low. Jesse glances at him. He flashes Gabe a smile that looks just on the wrong side of forced. 

“Yeah,” Jesse says. He nudges Gabe’s shoulder back, his smile melting into something a little more natural. Gabe returns his smile with one of his own, reassured. 

Jack leads them into a courtyard of a grand building at the end of the road. Several men loiter just inside the gates, surprisingly well-dressed in contrast to everyone else Gabe’s seen in Pariah; their clothes are immaculately pressed, their white collars pristine and starched, contrasting with their black coats and polished boots. They seem familiar in a way that Gabe can’t exactly put his finger on. They certainly look out of place in Pariah, in Westworld. Their dark hair is slicked back and their eyes follow Jack, Gabe and Jesse as they walk deeper into the courtyard. Gabe spots a fountain shaded by a tree, with a figure sitting on the ground with his back to them. A broad-shouldered guard with a sword strapped to his side stops them from getting too close. 

“What business do you have here?” the guard asks. Jack juts his chin out. 

“I’m Jack Morrison. I have an appointment,” he says. “It’s Los Muertos business.”

“Let them through,” the man sitting by the fountain says, his voice soft, almost lilting. The guard steps aside to allow Jack, Gabe and Jesse to pass by. They come around the side of the fountain to stand in front of the man sitting on the ground, cross legged, as if he’s meditating. He lifts his head to look at them, and it’s only Gabe’s years of training and experience that keeps him from reacting to the man’s appearance. The man’s face is deeply scarred, from under one ear, across his mouth and down to the opposite side of his jaw, as if he had been cut in half. Despite his scarred appearance, the man regards them serenely. “What news do you bring me?”

“We blew up the Los Muertos camp in the gorge outside of Sweetwater,” Jack says, using the voice he uses when he’s being authoritative or trying intimidate new recruits. The man’s expression doesn’t change - if anything, he looks amused. Gabe recognizes the look; he’s seen it on dangerous men before. They lull you into a false sense of security before they pull the rug out from under you. Or stab you in the back. 

“Ah, yes,” the man says. “We heard of the explosion.”

Jack narrows his eyes slightly. “We did you a favor.”

Gabe doesn’t wince, but it’s a near thing. Jack’s impatience has gotten them into trouble on more than one occasion, and this is shaping up to be no different. The man hardly blinks, though, the corners of his mouth curving into a scarred smile. 

“You did indeed,” the man says. “As a token of my gratitude, I’m happy to provide you an evening with some beautiful women, their skin as pale and soft as the finest silks -”

“I’ve fucked enough whores,” Jack scoffs, unholstering his gun. The seated man’s eyes flash. The broad-shouldered guard with the sword is suddenly at Jack’s throat, the long blade pressing against the skin. A drop of blood falls on the blade.  _ Katana _ , Gabe’s mind supplies. Suddenly, the familiar faces and looks click into place: these people remind him of the yakuza he once went up against, years ago. 

Jack’s eyes find Gabe’s, the shock clear on his face. Gabe steps forward quickly. 

“We don’t mean any offense -” he starts to say, but then Jesse is stepping in front of him, that strange expression on his face again. 

“You’re looking for something,” Jesse says. “So am I. We’re the people who can help you find it.”

The seated man’s expression melts back into quiet amusement. 

“Do you think the words of a babbling idiot are enough to convince me?” the man asks. Jesse’s face falls, a muscle working in his jaw. It looks like they’ve hit a dead end, and it’s not going to end well for them. 

Suddenly, Gabe remembers. He touches Jesse’s elbow as he dips his other hand into his coat pocket. He hears the sound of metal through air as the broad-shouldered guard swings the katana in his direction. Gabe quickly pulls his hand out of his coat, holding it above his head. The etched silver cigarette case glints between his fingers. 

The seated man holds up a hand at the guard with the sword. He rises to his feet slowly, eyes on Gabe’s hand. 

“What is that?” he asks. 

“It was given to me by a friend,” Gabe says carefully, tightening his fingers around the cigarette case. Olivia’s last words echo in his head again. The man extends his hand. 

“Let me see it,” he says. Gabe hesitates. The man’s lips curve up. “I won’t take it from you unless you attempt to harm me.”

As a gesture of good faith, Gabe hands it over. The man turns the case over in his hands. He runs a finger lightly over the delicate etchings. 

“Do you know where your friend found this?” he asks. Gabe shakes his head. He didn’t even look inside - it didn’t seem important at the time, and he was preoccupied last night. The man hums. He flips open the case. 

Inside, on top of the row of neatly rolled cigarettes, rests a folded piece of paper that the man opens. He reads the words scrawled on the page. Gabe can’t make out the words from where he’s standing. The man shakes his head. 

“Hanzo, you fool,” he murmurs softly. He folds up the piece of paper and tucks it into a pocket in his jacket. He looks up at Gabe, a glint in his eye. “Perhaps you could be of some use after all.”


	7. The Stagecoach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji sends Gabe, Jesse, and Jack on a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Only one chapter this week, but it's a long one! Enjoy ♥

In spite of Gabe’s reservations, he rides out of Pariah with Jack and Jesse. Genji, the effective patriarch of this branch of Shimada clan, gave them instructions to ride south of the town, down into the canyon that leads to the border. A stagecoach is scheduled to pass through, and it’s their job to intercept it. There’s a river crossing which will afford them the opportunity. No blood is to be spilled. Jack had enthusiastically agreed to the task, the threat of the katana at his throat apparently already forgotten. Jesse doesn’t say anything as they ride down into the canyon, his face closed off and thoughtful. 

“This is it, Gabe,” Jack says, pulling his horse alongside Gabe’s. Gabe tears his eyes away from Jesse to look at Jack. 

“This is what, exactly?”

“You keep asking that like I’ve got all the answers.”

“You keep acting like you do,” Gabe says. Jack lets out a little laugh. 

“I just think we’re on the right track,” he says. “We crack this thing, we can spill open all those secrets this place is hiding. We’ll have a leg up when it comes to negotiating our business.”

“Mm,” Gabe says noncommittally. “I’m not interested in war games.”

“Whatever,” Jack says. “You don’t have to be. After this is over, we can both be very wealthy men. But for now, we can go our separate ways or whatever. I’ll go have an actual adventure, and you can play house with your robot boyfriend.”

Gabe makes a face at him. “Stop.”

“What? I guess I can’t judge,” Jack says. “If that’s how you want to spend your time here, I guess that’s your prerogative.”

“You keep saying that, yet somehow it doesn’t actually sound like you believe it.”

“Well it’s  _ lame _ ,” Jack says. Gabe rolls his eyes. 

“Remind me why I agreed to come with you again?”

“Look, you can turn back now, if you want to,” Jack says. He leans forward in his saddle, looking at Gabe with sharp eyes. “But, I don’t think you want to. I think you want to unravel what the park’s all about - this mystery - as much as I do. I know you - you’re like a dog with a bone. Once you get a taste, you want to get to the bottom of it all.”

Gabe shifts in his saddle, avoiding Jack’s gaze. He’s not wrong, necessarily. There is an element of intrigue in this place that Gabe does want to pick apart, understand at its most basic level. Jack is right about that. The way Gabe sees it, though, these little threads - the Deadlock gang, the explosion at the gorge, their task for the Shimada clan - it’s just obscuring something bigger. Surely Jack sees it. He wouldn’t keep pushing if he didn’t. Gabe just isn’t sure if he wants to figure out what is going on here. Just for once, he wishes life could be simpler for him. Playing house doesn’t sound that bad, if Gabe lets himself think about it. 

When Gabe doesn’t say anything immediately, Jack gives him a knowing look. He flicks his reins and his horse tosses her head. Gabe lets Jack ride ahead so he can fall back into step beside Jesse. Jesse looks up as Gabe’s horse pulls alongside. 

“Hey,” he says with a nod. Gabe gives him a little smile. 

“Alright?”

“Right as rain,” Jesse says. 

“Good,” Gabe says, then pauses. He’s not sure how to put it, or if he should even ask. Jesse looks at him curiously. “You said back in Pariah you were looking for something. Is there… Is it something I can help with?”

Jesse blinks then turns his gaze back out to the trail ahead of them. “I dunno,” he says. “I’m not sure I could explain it.”

“Try me,” Gabe offers. Jesse glances sideways at him. He shifts in his saddle. 

“There’s something more to all of this, ain’t there?” Jesse says, gesturing out at the landscape. “I spent my whole life in Sweetwater just trying to get by. And then you came along and it was like I finally woke up.” He stops, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’m looking for, Gabe, but. Hell. I’m gonna find it.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help…”

“Gabe, you’ve already helped more than you know,” Jesse says, finally looking at Gabe again, his eyes soft under his furrowed brow. Gabe’s heart flutters in his chest. He reaches up and tugs his hat a little further down, self-conscious. Neither of them say anything more. Jesse starts whistling again. 

They ride to the canyon’s edge, to a point overlooking a bend in the river where the water is shallow enough for a crossing. They dismount their horses and tie them a little ways back from the edge of the canyon, out of the line of sight of the crossing. 

“We can pick them off from up here,” Jack says. He pulls his bandana up over his face. 

“Shimada said we weren’t supposed to spill any blood,” Gabe points out. 

“How else are we supposed to take the wagon? If we stay up here -”

“No,” Jesse objects. Jack turns to look at him, his eyes narrowed in surprise. Jesse gestures down towards the crossing. “If we miss or only injure them, we’re too far away to get to ‘em before they’d be able to get away. Hell, all we’d have to do is fire a shot and spook their horses and we’d be shit outta luck.”

Gabe tugs his own bandana up over his face to hide his smile. “He’s got a point.”

“Alright, genius,” Jack says. “What do you suggest?”

Jesse tilts his hat back to level a look at Jack. “That we turn around and head back to Pariah.”

“Oh, fuck you, that’s not an option,” Jack says. He turns to Gabe. “Seriously? We should’ve left him in the hotel.”

“Maybe he’s got a point,” Gabe says. 

“For fuck’s sake, let’s not start this again,” Jack says. 

“You’re talking about highway robbery,” Jesse says. “I’m not interested in hanging for doing someone else’s dirty work.”

Jack throws up his hands. He stalks towards Jesse and gets up in his face. For what it’s worth, Jesse stands his ground. 

“You listen here,” Jack says, yanking his bandana back down around his neck. “I’m not about to listen to the likes of you. Why don’t you ride on back to Sweetwater and spread your legs, since that’s all you seem comfortable doing?”

“Hey -” Gabe says, alarmed, stepping forward to get between them. Jesse’s already throwing a punch, though; it lands with a satisfying crack against Jack’s jaw. Jack stumbles back a step, holding his jaw and looking surprised. He blinks, then laughs, shaking it off. He turns his head and spits into the dirt. 

“I see why you like him, Gabe,” Jack says. “He’s got more of a backbone than you do.”

Gabe curls his fists at his sides, jaw set. He doesn’t say anything. 

“Look, you two can head on back to Pariah if you really want to,” Jack says. “I can do this shit by myself.”

Gabe feels Jesse’s eyes on him. He shakes his head. “Don’t be stupid, Jack,” Gabe says. “We’re with you.”

“Well at least you’re not  _ completely  _ stupid,” Jack says. He spits into the dirt again. “Come on - let’s get down there.”

Jack turns and starts easing his way down the trail to the river crossing. Gabe looks at Jesse. 

“You don’t have to stay,” Gabe says. Jesse shrugs. 

“I trust you,” he says. He pulls his own bandana up over his mouth and nose. “Besides, I’m not about to let that jackass get you killed out here.”

※

The man in grey rides through the haze on the plateau, Sombra in tow. Her face is bloodied, one eye swollen shut. Her hands are tied to the pommel of the man’s saddle to keep her from running, as if she had the strength. She stumbles over her own feet as she tries to keep up with the man in grey’s pace, her injured body threatening to give out. The man in grey casts a glance back at her. 

“Keep up,” he says. 

“ _ Chingate _ ,” she spits at him, baring her teeth. Her teeth are streaked with blood. The man in grey laughs. 

“That’s how I know you’re fine,” he says. “Keep up.”

The man in grey doesn’t adjust his pace, even as Sombra stumbles again. There’s enough slack in the rope around her hands to let her trail a few feet behind the man’s horse. She puts her feet one in front of the other with a great effort. 

The plateau’s haze seems endless. 

“You should’ve left me to die,” Sombra says eventually. The man in grey doesn’t turn around. 

“You’re no use to me dead,” the man says. “Not this time, anyway.”

Sombra doesn’t say anything more, conserving her energy for the long walk ahead. The man in grey stays quiet, sitting upright in his saddle and keeping his eyes trained on some indecipherable point ahead of them. 

Through the haze, a black spire appears, jutting up sharply from the sand. The black point pierced the sky. The man in grey pulls his horse to a stop, watching the outline solidify. 

“Pariah?” Sombra asks. The man in grey glances down at her. 

“It’s been a while hasn’t it?” he asks. With a click of his tongue and a flick of his reins, the man in grey urges his horse forward. Sombra shuffles then stumbles, letting the man drag her along, resigned to her fate. 

※

Lying in wait near the river crossing, Gabe calls upon his years of training to soothe his nerves. He looks out over the river instead of down the road. The water slows at the widest point in the riverbend, the boundaries marked by posts on either side of the river. The sound the water makes over the rocks is calming. Gabe closes his eyes briefly, listening. He may not like Jack’s plan, but he can, for now, set aside his reservations and keep his wits about him. There’s no use arguing at this point. The bandana over his mouth and nose makes his face uncomfortably warm as the sun rises higher in the sky. A bead of sweat trickles down his collar. 

“There,” Jesse says some time later, pointing to a puff of dust on the horizon. Gabe squints in the direction Jesse points, trying to see past the dust and heat haze. Sure enough, it’s the stagecoach, exactly as Shimada said: two men on the bench up front, and probably one more on the back, though Gabe can’t confirm his presence just yet. They’re still too far away to know for sure whether or not they’re armed, but Shimada seemed to think that the stagecoach would be unguarded. Jack cocks his gun. 

“Let’s do this,” Jack says. Gabe puts his hand out. 

“We’re not shooting first,” Gabe says flatly. 

“That just gives them a chance to get a jump on us,” Jack says. “Remember what your little boyfriend said? We don’t give them a chance to shoot first.”

“That’s not what I said,” Jesse says irritably. Gabe shakes his head. 

“Shimada said that they weren’t supposed to be packing,” Gabe says. Jack scoffs. 

“You want to put your trust in someone like  _ that _ ?” Jack says. “You of all people should know better.”

Gabe presses his mouth into a hard line, but he’s not backing down on this one. “He gave us this job for a reason.”

“And Pariah is full of criminals, Gabe, you saw what it was like back there.”

“Shimada has nothing to gain by lying to us,” Jesse points out before Gabe has a chance to speak again. “He wouldn’t be sending us to our deaths if he really wanted the stagecoach.”

“And we don’t know he actually wants what he says he does,” Jack says. “This could be a wild goose chase.”

“By that logic, this whole place could be a wild goose chase, Jack,” Gabe says. He spreads his arms. “Whatever  _ you’re  _ looking for might not even be here. Whatever game you’re playing might not even have a purpose.”

Jack narrows his eyes at Gabe, tilting his hat back so Gabe can see the displeased slant to his eyes above the edge of his bandana. Gabe knows he’s touched a nerve. He can hear the stagecoach on the road now - it’s getting closer. Jack must hear it too; he doesn’t pursue the thread with Gabe, for now at least. There will be a reckoning later. 

“Just shut up and let me do the talking then, alright?”

Gabe shrugs, turning back in the direction the stagecoach. It’s even closer now, the horses and wheels kicking up a cloud of dust that obscures the driver and its passengers. Gabe watches Jack from the corner of his eye; Jack hasn’t reholstered his gun. 

Jack steps out into the path of the stagecoach. It stops just in time, the horses nearly rearing in surprise. The dust settles enough for Gabe to get a good look at the driver and his companion up front; the driver is dressed like the Shimada clan had been back at Pariah, though he somehow looks more old-fashioned than the others. The hair at his temples are flecked with grey and he has an aloof, mean look in his eye. The other man on the bench next to him looks less like a member of the Shimada clan and more like one of the Los Muertos people Gabe had seen in the gorge - less polished, rough around the edges. Another man pokes his head around the side of the stagecoach as it comes to a halt. Gabe’s fingers itch for his shotgun, still strapped across his back, but he doesn’t reach for it. He doesn’t see any weapons. 

“What is the meaning of this?” the driver demands. His voice has the same cadence as the Shimada patriarch. Jack idly spins his gun in his hand. 

“You’re going to give us your little wagon there,” Jack says, gesturing with his gun. The driver’s eyes follow the movement warily. 

“Not likely,” the driver says. “Move aside.”

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Jack says, adjusting his grip on his gun. 

“You have no idea the mistake you’re making,” the driver says. He sounds almost bored, as if this is a thing that happens to him regularly. 

“Just hand over the wagon, and you’ll be free to go,” Gabe says, stepping up beside Jack. He feels Jack shift next to him, can feel his eyes on him. 

“There’s nothing of value here,” the driver says. “Not for you.”

“Well it’s not for us, is it?” Jack says. The driver’s eyes flash. “Hand over the wagon.”

“No.”

Jack cocks his gun. Gabe’s shoulders go tense, ready to spring into action if Jack does exactly what he’s asked him not to do. 

“Hand over the wagon, and I won’t blow you to bits,” Jack says. The driver gives Jack an amused look. 

“You’re certainly allowed to try,” the driver says. 

“Three of you, three of us,” Jack says. “Seems like a fair fight.”

“Then try us,” the driver says, the disdain clear in his voice. 

It happens quickly - before Gabe has the chance to react or stop it. Jack fires, his bullet taking out the man on the bench next to the driver. The man tips sideways into the dirt with a strangled cry. The horse rears as the driver leaps off the bench, diving for Jack. Gabe reaches over his shoulder for his shotgun, fumbling with the strap before he pulls it free, but the driver is already on Jack. They go tumbling in the dirt. A bullet whizzes by Gabe’s ear; the man who had been sitting at the back of the stagecoach advances on Gabe, gun drawn. Gabe lowers his own gun, still unwilling to shoot first. 

Another shot goes off behind him. Gabe wheels on the spot to see the driver’s companion shakily holding himself up with one arm, his gun pointed at Jesse. Jesse doesn’t move, his gun hanging in his hand, slack at his side, a trickle of blood blooming through his sleeve. The driver’s companion cocks his gun again. Without thinking, Gabe levels his shotgun at the man and shoots into his back. He collapses into the dirt. The other man from the back of the wagon shoots at Gabe again, but misses. Gabe whirls around, takes aim and fires, sending the man flying backwards with the force of the shot to the stomach. 

A strangled noise in the dirt at his feet draws Gabe’s attention. He sees Jack pinned up against one of the wagon wheels, the driver with his hands around his neck. Jack’s weapon lies in the dust just out of reach. Gabe aims his shotgun again. 

“Don’t -” Jesse says suddenly, grabbing Gabe’s arm and yanking him back. Gabe snaps out of the haze of his long-ingrained training, coming back to the present at the look on Jesse’s face. He blinks rapidly. As he turns, he hears a grunt. When he looks back, he sees Jack kicking the man away from him as they both struggle to their feet. Gabe puts himself between them quickly, hauling Jack up. Jack shoves his shoulder against Gabe’s chest. 

“Lemme -”

“It’s over, Jack,” Gabe says. The driver scrambles in the dirt, bleeding profusely from the nose. He manages to get to his feet. 

“Shoot him!” Jack bellows, clawing at Gabe’s arms, trying to get out of his grip. Gabe holds him tighter, unwilling to let him go. The driver is already stumbling away back down the road from where he came. “Shoot him!”

Jesse holsters his own gun deliberately. “Let him go. Ain’t worth it.”

Jack makes a frustrated sound. He pushes at Gabe’s chest and Gabe finally lets him go. Jack stumbles back a few steps then goes back down into the dirt, sitting down hard on his ass. He yanks the bandana down from around his face. 

“You fucking idiot,” Jack says. “You fucking morons. Like  _ that _ isn’t going to come back to haunt us.”

“You said we weren’t going to shoot first,” Jesse says, his voice going accusatory. 

“I didn’t say that,” Jack says. He wipes the blood off his lip with the back of his hand. 

“Are you okay?” Gabe asks. Jack makes a dismissive gesture and glances at the two bodies bleeding out in the dirt, then back at Gabe. 

“Did you do that?”

A muscle works in Gabe’s jaw. He reaches over his shoulder to reholster his shotgun. Jack’s expression brightens. He gets to his feet with some difficulty and wobbles back to Gabe, clapping him on the shoulder. 

“At least you’re finally getting into it, huh? Was that so bad?”

Gabe shrugs off his hand. Jack lets him and wanders away to retrieve his gun. He stoops, balancing himself with one hand on the ground before he straightens, dusting some of the dust off with his coat. Gabe glances back at Jesse, but Jesse isn’t looking at him. His eyes are on the bodies, his injured arm still hanging slack at his side. 

“We should get the wagon back to Pariah before it gets dark,” Gabe says. 

“Yeah,” Jack agrees. He slips his gun into his holster at his hip. “You wanna drive this thing?”

“I’ll do it,” Jesse says. 

“Not by yourself you’re not,” Jack says. Jesse shrugs. 

“Follow on your horses or tie ‘em to the back,” Jesse says. “At least I know what I’m doing.”

“Good idea,” Gabe says before Jack can open his mouth again. He turns to Jack. “Think you can bring the horses back here? We can head back to Pariah together.”

Jack frowns at him. “Sure you aren’t just going to take off and leave me out here by myself?”

“Of course not,” Gabe says, more than a little offended at the question. Jack makes a face. He turns and starts walking back up the trail to where they left the horses tethered. Gabe watches him go for a moment, frowning at his back. When he’s out of earshot, he turns back to Jesse, letting the concern wash over his expression. He gestures to Jesse’s bleeding arm. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll live,” Jesse says. Gabe takes yanks his bandana from around his neck. 

“We’ll get you cleaned up back in town,” he says, wrapping his bandana around Jesse’s arm. Jesse lets Gabe do it, but he avoids Gabe’s eye. Once the bandana is secured, Jesse moves away to get the horses hitched to the stagecoach. He runs a soothing hand over one horse’s neck as Gabe watches. Something clenches in Gabe’s chest. 

“I didn’t think Jack would do that,” Gabe says after a moment, lowering his voice. He comes over to stand next to Jesse, but doesn’t reach out to touch him. Jesse looks at him sideways. 

“Didn’t you?” he asks. Gabe looks down. 

“I should’ve known better,” he admits. Neither Gabe nor Jesse speak for a moment. Finally, Jesse reaches out and touches Gabe’s hand. 

“After we get back to Pariah,” Jesse says, then stops. Gabe lifts his head to look at Jesse, but he doesn’t pick up the thread. 

“Yeah?” he asks. Jesse huffs a little breath out. 

“Maybe it  _ is _ time we went off on our own,” Jesse says finally. Gabe blinks, torn. 

“You want to?”

“I said it before, haven’t I?” Jesse says, turning his attention back to the horse. He rubs over the horses neck in slow circles. Gabe gets the impression that Jesse is soothing the horse as much as himself. 

“I just wasn’t sure that you’d still…”

“‘Course I do, Gabe,” Jesse says. “But if you’d rather stick with your friend -”

Gabe doesn’t - he really doesn’t want to. He’s tired of trailing Jack around, cleaning up his messes, both real and fictional. If he’s supposed to be enjoying his time here, Gabe would like to make the most of it with Jesse, while he still can. But, at the same time, he feels an odd sense of responsibility too; like if he doesn’t keep an eye on Jack, everything will go to shit. 

“I don’t want to,” Gabe says out loud. He feels Jesse’s eyes on him again, critical, burning a hole into him. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, really, Jesse,” Gabe says. He reaches out, haltingly, and tangles his fingers with Jesse’s as he meets his eye. He swallows around the lump in his throat. Jesse’s eyes look almost too bright. 

“Alright,” he says, the corner of his mouth finally curving up. “Okay. Then - you and me, huh?”

“You and me.”

Jack returns with their horses a moment later, Buckshot straining against her tether, clearly unhappy to be dragged along by the likes of Jack. Jesse goes to her, untying her from Jack’s lead. Buckshot calms almost immediately, following Jesse as docile as a lamb. 

“More trouble than it’s worth,” Jack grumbles. “We could just leave them out here and nobody would care.”

“That’s no way to treat a living creature,” Jesse chides. He leads Buckshot around to the back of the stagecoach. Jack makes a face at Gabe. 

“What am I paying for, huh? Can’t someone else clean up after us? It’d be nice, for once.”

Gabe doesn’t say anything; he knows for a fact that Jack hasn’t cleaned up his own messes for a very long time. Jack’s disregard for consequences here is increasingly grating on him - the mismatch with how Jack behaves in the real world is jarring. 

“We need to get moving,” Gabe says instead. He doesn’t want to think about the real world right now. 

“Yeah, yeah, back to Pariah before it gets dark,” Jack says. “Did you check inside?”

“What, in the wagon?”

“Yes of course in the wagon, Gabe, what else would I be talking about?”

“Shimada told us not to,” Jesse says as he comes up back around the stagecoach. Jack is already moving to the door. 

“What did I say about putting my trust in that guy, huh?” Jack says. He yanks on the door but it doesn’t budge. Gabe edges closer, his curiosity getting the better of him. Jack rattles the handle on the door again but it still doesn’t open. He swears. 

“Take it easy, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Gabe says. 

“I’m not going to hurt myself,” Jack snaps. “The driver wasn’t  _ that _ strong.”

“Still. Guess it’ll have to be a mystery,” Gabe says, strangely relieved that the door won’t open. He doesn’t like the idea of such a blatant slight against Shimada and his people; he gets the feeling that under their polished exterior, a cruelty runs as sharp as their appearances. Jack rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t sound too pleased with yourself,” he says. “We could break the door.”

“We’re not going to break the door.”

“Alright, alright. Jesus. I didn’t think I’d have to deal with so much shit from you here,” Jack says. He goes to scramble back up into his saddle. “Never thought you’d be the moralizing type.”

“What about…” Gabe says, choosing to ignore Jack’s jab. He gestures at the fallen bodies of the stagecoach driver’s companions. Jack casts a look at them then shrugs negligently. 

“Leave ‘em. Someone will come for them,” Jack says. Gabe frowns. “Do you want to get to Pariah before it gets too dark to see, or do you want to spend another night sleeping in the dirt?”

Gabe drags his gaze away from the bodies. He doesn’t like giving in to Jack on this point, but he also isn’t thrilled about spending the night out in these parts; he’s less worried about the dirt and more worried about the unsavory types who might try to take advantage of them in the night. Jack sits back in his saddle. 

“That’s what I thought,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Jesse swings himself up onto the driver’s seat, taking the horses’ leads. 

“I’ll ride with Jesse,” Gabe says.

“Sure, great. Try not to dawdle,” Jack says. Gabe takes the leads from his own horse and ties her to the back of the stagecoach with Buckshot before he climbs up on the bench with Jesse. He looks sideways at Jesse as he settles into the seat, his thigh presses up against Jesse’s. Jesse meets his eyes and gives him a little nod. Jack’s horse canters in place impatiently. Finally, Jesse clicks his tongue and flicks the reins. The stagecoach lurches towards Pariah. 

※

The sun is beginning to set when the man in grey finally stops. Sombra stumbles over her feet and goes down, the exhaustion taking over. The man in grey doesn’t seem to notice, or, if he does, he doesn’t appear to be concerned. He tips his hat back and raises his hand to shield his eyes against the sun’s deep orange light. The haze is starting to thin, the horizon resolving into something more solid and substantial. Sombra lifts her own head with difficulty. 

“Where is it?” the man in grey asks. 

“Close,” Sombra says, her voice sticking in her throat. The man in grey casts a look down at her. 

“If you’ve led me on a wild goose chase…”

“Killing me would be a mercy,” Sombra rasps. The man in grey’s mouth flattens into a hard line. He turns his gaze back to the horizon. 

The sun sinks lower, casting the sky in shades of red and orange. The haze thins out even more and then, as if on the very edge of the world, a town rises up from the horizon. Other buildings begin to resolve themselves as Sombra’s eyes adjust to the view, but the spire sticks out in her mind. 

“There,” she says. A satisfied smirk spreads over the man’s face, making the scars stand out against his skin. 

※

The sun has nearly set completely by the time Gabe, Jesse, Jack and the stagecoach roll back into Pariah. Pariah’s streets are illuminated with flickering lamps along the main road. More light spills into the street from the various saloons and brothels that are just starting to get busy at this hour. 

Jesse guides the stagecoach through the town towards the Shimada clan’s compound. Gabe is very aware of the eyes that follow their route; he can feel their gaze like ants crawling on his skin. He tries to shake the feeling. 

“You seein’ this?” Jesse asks, his voice a low murmur. 

“Seeing what?”

“People are staring.”

Gabe lets his breath out. “I did notice that, yeah.”

“What do you think it means?” Jesse asks. 

“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

The Shimada compound is similarly illuminated, looming in the long shadow of the walls that guard the courtyard. Jack rides up ahead of the stagecoach to the gates. 

“We’ve got your damn stagecoach,” Jack says. The two men guarding the entrance exchange a look then let the wrought iron gates swing open to let them pass. Jack straightens in his saddle, looking pleased with himself as he rides into the courtyard. Jesse urges the horses forward in his wake. Gabe sneaks a look at the guards as the stagecoach trundles past them. One guard leans in towards the other and says something into his ear that Gabe can’t hear. Their expressions betray nothing. Gabe shifts on the bench. He doesn’t have a bad feeling about this, exactly, but he also isn’t entirely sure what to expect. 

Jack slides off his horse at the base of the steps that lead up to the main building in the Shimada compound. Jesse brings the stagecoach to a stop and look at Gabe, one eyebrow raised. Gabe meets his eyes but doesn’t say anything. 

The double doors to the main building open and Genji Shimada sweeps through, followed by several more impeccably dressed men. He’s dressed in a beautiful silk robe that practically floats as he walks. His katana is strapped to his back. Genji pauses at the top of the stairs. He regards Jack, Gabe, Jesse and the stagecoach with an unreadable look, though Gabe can’t help but wonder if he detects a gleam in his eyes in the dim light of the courtyard. His imagination is starting to run away from him in this place - he should be more careful of that. 

“Is this it?” Genji asks, his quiet voice still managing to fill the courtyard. 

“Intercepted them by the river,” Jack says. “Just like you said.”

“And its driver?”

“They put up a fight,” Jack says, taking a couple steps forward, but stopping at the bottom step. Genji’s face darkens. 

“Where are they, Mr. Morrison?” Genji asks. His voice has gone steely. As Gabe watches, it seems like the light flickers in such a way that it makes the scars on Genji’s face deepen, giving him a more sinister look. Gabe slides down from the bench. 

“I killed two of them,” Gabe says, stepping up next to Jack. Genji’s sharp gaze turns on Gabe. “One of them got away. The driver.”

“They attacked us,” Jack says. Gabe swallows down his own protest, keeping his expression neutral. 

“They didn’t give us a choice,” Gabe says. 

Genji doesn’t say anything for a long moment, his eyes boring into Gabe’s face. Finally, he half turns and gestures with one hand to two of the men standing behind him. They start down the steps to the stagecoach. Jack’s hand goes for his holster. In an instant, Genji is on him, katana at his neck. 

“No, I think you’ll give my men a moment to inspect the stagecoach,” he says, his voice still eerily calm, his face close to Jack’s. Gabe doesn’t move, though he watches from the corner of his eye as the two men circle the stagecoach and then try the door. 

“It’s locked,” Gabe says. Genji glances at him. “We didn’t look inside, like you asked.”

“Of course,” he says. He still doesn’t move the katana from Jack’s throat even as he keeps his eyes on Gabe’s face. The scab reopens under the pressure of the blade, a fresh trickle of blood sliding down Jack’s neck. For what it’s worth, Jack doesn’t flinch. “This driver - did you see what he looked like?”

“He was dressed like your people, maybe a little older than you,” Gabe says. 

“And you left him alive?”

“I didn’t kill him,” Gabe says. “He went back the way he came - down the road.”

Genji straightens and sheaths his katana. He motions to his men again, this time with an order in Japanese. One of them moves around to the front of the stagecoach and gestures to Jesse, who slides off the bench. The man shoos him away, so Jesse comes to stand with Gabe. 

“My men will take the stagecoach,” Genji says. “You three will come with me.”

He turns and starts back up the steps. 

“We got your damn stagecoach,” Jack says, not moving. “Where’s our reward?”

Genji stops. He speaks without turning around. “You three will come with me,” he says again, his voice going low and dangerous. Jack steps forward - almost a lunge - but Gabe grabs him by the elbow before he gets too far. 

“Jack,” Gabe hisses. Genji resumes walking up the steps. If he noticed Jack’s movement, he makes no indication. 

“Your patience will be rewarded,” Genji says, a note of sarcasm bleeding into his voice. He steps through the double doors and disappears into the main building. Jack pulls his arm out of Gabe’s grip and takes the steps two at a time, following in Genji’s wake. Gabe lets his hand fall at his side. He glances back at the stagecoach, but the men haven’t opened the doors. They’re just standing next to it, waiting for Gabe and Jesse to walk inside. It makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He looks back at Jesse. 

“I don’t like it,” Jesse says, voice low. Gabe lets his breath out and nods. 

“Yeah, but we’ve come this far,” he replies. He tangles his hand with Jesse’s. Jesse squeezes his fingers briefly before he lets go. They follow Jack into the building. 

※

The man in grey’s arrival into Pariah is not marked by any significance. If anyone notices his presence, they don’t give any indication. Unlike in Sweetwater, here, the man in grey doesn’t stick out; this is his natural habitat. 

Sombra’s legs finally give out when the man in grey pulls his horse to a stop next to a fountain. She falls into the dust and lets her eyes slide closed. She wants, desperately, to be done. Death would be kinder. 

“Get up,” the man in grey says above her. She doesn’t move - she doesn’t have the strength. She doesn’t open her eyes, even as she hears the man in grey slide down from his horse. “Get up.”

Rough hands haul her to her feet. She doesn’t have it in her to fight back, her head lolling back. The man in grey shakes her. 

“I’m not finished with you yet,” he growls. 

“ _ Chingate _ ,” Sombra mumbles, her lip curling up in a smirk. The man lets her go with a disgusted noise. She collapses back into the dust. She hears the man’s boots walk a few steps away and then he comes back. He lifts her again, her feet leaving the ground completely as he tosses her over his saddle. The pommel digs into the wound on her stomach, sending shockwaves of pain through her body. Her eyes fly open as the horse starts moving underneath her. It’s dizzying. Too exhausted to fight the pain that washes over her, Sombra succumbs to unconsciousness. 

※

Gabe follows a few steps behind Jack, his boots clicking on the polished floors of the hall of the Shimada clan’s main compound. Jesse matches his stride, walking close at Gabe’s side with a tense set to his shoulders. Genji leads them through the winding hallways, his robe sweeping out behind him, his footsteps so soft as to be practically inaudible. They haven’t seen another soul since they stepped through the doors into the main building, and it’s starting to make Gabe nervous. 

Genji sweeps through another set of doors and Gabe gets the impression that he’s brought them into his inner sanctum. He’s not sure if that should make him feel better or worse. A low, dark wood table sits in the middle of the room, surrounded by thick, square cushions. Genji moves to a shelf tucked into the wall, gesturing negligently at the table. 

“Sit,” he says. “Make yourselves comfortable. Our guests will arrive shortly.”

“Guests?” Jack echoes. Genji turns back to them, a bottle in one hand, and a few glasses in another. 

“Guests,” Genji says again, his expression betraying nothing. “You returned the stagecoach to me, for which I am grateful, though your methods are… Objectionable.”

“We didn’t set out with the intention to cause harm,” Gabe says. Genji smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Does the sentiment matter once the harm has been done?” Genji asks. Gabe averts his gaze - he’s often wondered that question himself. Genji pours a glass of a clear, strong-smelling liquor and hands it down to Gabe. “Please do not mistake my question. I do appreciate your sense of honor, but your actions have complicated matters.”

Gabe nods as he accepts the glass from Genji, though he doesn’t drink it immediately. Genji pours another glass for Jesse, then one for Jack, before pouring one for himself. He raises his glass to the three of them before he tips it back, drinking it down in one smooth gulp. Gabe does the same - or tries to, he’s never been a good sake drinker. Genji lowers himself to a cushion next to Jack, placing the bottle on the table between them as he goes. Jack reaches for the bottle and pours himself another glass. 

“So who are we waiting for, then?” Jack asks. Genji watches placidly as Jack knocks back the second drink without offering another drink to anyone else. 

“My associates,” Genji says. “To use a very loose term. I would prefer  _ not  _ to associate with them myself, but perhaps you are the right types to do so in my stead.”

The slight sneer in Genji’s voice is unmistakable, but it doesn’t seem to faze Jack at all - if he notices. He pours himself a third glass. 

“We’re not thugs,” Jesse says suddenly. Genji turns his cool gaze on Jesse, giving him an appraising look. 

“Your actions prove otherwise,” Genji says. Out of the corner of his eye, Gabe sees Jesse’s hand clench against his knee, but he doesn’t say anything more. Jack doesn’t seem to notice - he’s working on his sake. Gabe’s not sure if he poured a fourth or maybe fifth cup for himself. 

“Great. Well, we don’t have all night, so maybe we can get this show on the road?” Jack asks. 

Genji’s placid smile strains at the edges. “Patience is a virtue.”

Jack snorts. Genji unsheaths his katana. Gabe goes stiff, poised to intervene. Jack eyes the blade warily, though he doesn’t lash out, for once. Maybe the scab on his throat still stings. Gabe holds his breath anyway - he doesn’t like where this is going. Carefully, deliberately, Genji places the katana across the table. 

“When I was a young man, I was rash, reckless, indiscreet. I cared not for any others aside from myself,” Genji says. He folds his hands in his lap, his eyes on the katana. He seems to be speaking to it, his expression going a little far away. “I am not the eldest Shimada. I am not meant to be the patriarch of this clan. That duty fell to my brother when our father died. He was responsible for carrying on the Shimada family’s honor. He took his duty seriously. I did not.”

Genji pauses. None of them speak. Even Jack stays quiet, the cup of sake held poised at his lips. Gabe’s focus is completely on Genji, entranced by the lilt of his voice and cadence of his story. 

“I was reckless. I acted dishonorably - I drank too much, I whored around, I picked fights and squandered money. The shame I brought on my family… My brother tried to kill me. He thought he succeeded,” Genji says. He looks up, across the table, meeting Gabe’s gaze with steely eyes. “After he thought I was dead, he abandoned the Shimada family, prepared to leave it in ruins because of his actions. With my death and his abdication, the Shimada family was doomed to fall. It was fortunate for him, for my entire family, that I lived.”

Genji turns his gaze on Jack, who hasn’t tried to interrupt, for once. 

“I may not be a hardened soldier, like you are, but I have other virtues that benefit my family and our business,” Genji says. “I recognize that you may not appreciate being kept in the dark on certain matters. But with patience, and with time, all will be revealed to you, Mr. Morrison.”

Before Jack has a chance to speak, another set of doors opens, and two people step into Genji’s receiving room. The spell of Genji’s story breaks as the four of them turn to look at the newcomers. Genji raises his head, but doesn’t stand. 

“Akande, we have been waiting,” he says. The displeasure is clear in his voice, but it has no effect on the enormous man. The man’s - Akande’s - body overwhelms the doorway, almost obscuring all the light that comes in behind him. His broad torso fights the confines of his coat - Gabe can imagine the threads straining to contain the breadth of his chest and shoulders. He towers over them; if Gabe stood up, he isn’t sure that he’d reach much past the man’s shoulder. Akande’s face isn’t kind; he has a sinister look to his expression that underscores the threat of his bulk. His smile is cruel. Gabe is glad he still has his shotgun strapped to his back. 

“After all of the times you have kept me and mine waiting, I felt I could return the favor,” Akande says. Genji shifts in his seat almost imperceptibly, his already ramrod straight back stretching taller. He doesn’t move to pick up the katana again, though it’s unclear whether he means to leave it on the table as a threat or a peace offering. 

“We have guests,” Genji’s says, gesturing to Gabe, Jesse and Jack. Akande glances at them, seemingly unimpressed. 

“Unless they have something to offer more interesting than what you owe, Shimada -”

“That is precisely why they are here,” Genji says testily. He gestures to two other cushions alongside the table. “Please, won’t you join us?”

Akande waits a moment longer - to further aggravate Genji, Gabe is sure of it - before he finally sits, positioning himself across from Genji, between Gabe and Jesse. It shouldn’t bother Gabe as much as it does, so he swallows down the feeling and instead turns his attention to Akande’s companion who, Gabe realizes as she sits, is a particularly beautiful, lithe woman. She’s one of the few women throughout Westworld that Gabe’s seen wearing pants. Something about the quality of her skin - pale, almost translucent - gives her an inhuman sort of look. She says nothing, flicking her long black ponytail over her shoulder as she folds herself into a seat at Jack’s side. Her expression betrays nothing and her eyes seem to slide right over everyone at the table. She doesn’t introduce herself, and neither Akande nor Genji move to do so either. 

“I would offer you a drink, but I believe our new business partner has emptied the bottle,” Genji says with a nod to Jack. Jack shrugs, unbothered. 

“I’m paying for it.”

“Business partner?” Akande asks, ignoring or perhaps not hearing Jack’s comment. “I’m through being business partners with you, Shimada. After all that trouble with Los Muertos -”

“We finished them off,” Jack says. Akande looks at Jack, as if he sees him for the very first time. 

“Did you?” he asks. The way he asks the question sounds like an indulgent father entertaining a child’s fantasies. Jack doesn’t seem to notice. He draws himself up in his seat. 

“At the gorge,” Jack says. “Just outside Sweetwater. Blew them to shreds.”

Akande laughs - a deep, booming laugh that sends a chill down Gabe’s spine. His instincts scratch at the back of his mind, trilling a warning signal that Gabe has a hard time blotting out. He has to remind himself that this isn’t like their normal jobs. This isn’t a situation that they would put themselves in to begin with. But the danger feels real, and Gabe can see the bruises forming on Jack’s throat from here. 

“These gentlemen are interested in your war,” Genji says as Akande’s laughter fades. “They have skills that you might find useful, though I have some reservations about their ability to follow orders…”

“We make our own orders,” Jack says, leaning his elbows on the table and leveling a look at Akande. Akande looks amused. 

“I have no use for people like that.”

“Well then maybe I have no use for people like you,” Jack says. “I’ve got some friends in high places who’d be interested to hear what you’re doing in these parts.”

“Even if that was true, you assume that I’d let you get that far,” Akande says. He leans forward too, looming towards Jack with a spark in his eyes that can only be construed as a threat. 

“Gentlemen,” Genji interjects. There’s no urgency to his voice - if anything, he sounds bored. Gabe understands that, at least; he was about ready to whip out the ruler for them himself. “This thread of conversation is getting us nowhere.”

“Frankly, I don’t see what you see in them, Shimada,” Akande says. 

“You never did have any appreciation for subtlety,” Genji sniffs. Akande laughs. 

“We took out the Los Muertos gang,” Jack says again. Akande practically rolls his eyes. 

“Yes, near Sweetwater,” he says. “I heard you the first time. If that was of any actual significance, perhaps your reputation would precede you. As it stands, however, you are nobody.”

“We’ve got Deadlock on our side,” Jack says. Gabe blinks, head swinging to look at Jack, but Jack isn’t looking at him. He can’t see Jesse for Akande’s bulk, either. Gabe doesn’t dare try to get a look at his face, though. 

“Deadlock?” Akande repeats, his voice changing just slightly. It sets Gabe’s teeth on edge. 

“That’s right.”

“Last I heard, Deadlock had traded their guns for whores.”

Gabe goes stiff, his face darkening. On Akande’s other side, Jesse doesn’t say anything, so Gabe keeps his mouth shut. Surprisingly, Jack bristles - Gabe guesses he’s annoyed that he has to try harder than usual to get his way. 

“Do you want our help or not?” Jack snaps. A slow, dangerous smile spreads over Akande’s face. 

“You don’t even know what you’re volunteering for,” he says. 

“War,” Jack says. “I’ve seen plenty of war.”

Akande regards Jack for a long, tense moment. Gabe once again forgets to breathe, holding his breath, waiting for someone to make a move. He doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to volunteer himself for something that he doesn’t understand - let Jack make that mistake for himself. Gabe can’t let himself feel responsible for him. They’ve been on a different trajectory nearly the entire time they’ve been in the park (longer, a voice in the back of his mind tells him, though Gabe quickly pushes that thought away), and it’s time Gabe pursue his own path. He finally is able to look at Jesse and finds Jesse already looking at him. Something passes between them, and Gabe feels his resolve strengthen. 

“Very well. Let’s see what you can do.”

※

Gabe leaves Jack behind with Akande and Genji to celebrate their new partnership. Genji insists on providing rooms for them in the Shimada compound, as a gesture of good faith and gratitude for their assistance with the stagecoach. Gabe had not been too keen on staying in the compound, but Jack overrode his protests. 

“It’s the right thing to do, Gabe,” Jack had said. Pretty rich coming from Jack these days, but Gabe keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he excuses himself. Nobody protests, though Gabe does feel Genji’s eyes following him as he takes his leave for the night. 

Jesse accompanies Gabe to their rooms, still detached and quiet, right until the door slides shut behind them. He turns to Gabe. 

“I don’t want to go with them,” Jesse says flatly. “I don’t like the look of that man - Akande. He’s dangerous.”

“I know,” Gabe says. He sinks to the edge of the bed and rubs a hand over his face. 

“And what does Jack know about Deadlock anyway?”

“I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.”

“When are you gonna tell Jack we’re not going with them?” Jesse asks. 

“I don’t know. In the morning.”

“But you are going to tell him?” Jesse presses. 

Gabe looks back up at Jesse to find him looking down at him, arms folded across his chest, a furrow between his brows, the corners of his mouth turned down. It’s not an expression that Jesse has directed at him before. Gabe blinks and straightens in his seat. 

“Yeah, I’m going to tell him.”

Jesse lets his breath out and looks away. 

“It just seems like you never tell him no.”

Something about those words cuts Gabe deep. He averts his gaze again, shame and embarrassment burning up the back of his neck. 

“He usually doesn’t take no for an answer,” Gabe says. 

“So you just let him?”

Gabe shrugs. He rubs a hand over his face. He doesn’t want to do this - he doesn’t want to have this conversation. He just wants to have a nice time, to enjoy himself with Jesse, to not have to think about anyone but himself, for once in his life. 

Neither of them say anything - Gabe gets the impression that Jesse is waiting for him to speak first. Gabe shakes his head. 

“It’s not worth the fight, most of the time.”

“And the rest of the time?”

“Jesse,” Gabe says. 

“What? You think I ain’t gonna understand?” Jesse asks. His boots click against the floor as he crosses the room to stand in front of Gabe. Gabe doesn’t look up, avoids looking Jesse in the eye. The back of his neck is burning up. 

“It’s just... complicated.”

“Sounds like bullshit to me.”

“Jesse -”

“Don’t. You know it’s bullshit,” Jesse says. His hand slides under Gabe’s chin, tilting his head up to look at him, his touch more gentle than his words. “You’re either gonna let him walk all over you or not. I seen you out there, I know what you can do - you ain’t a man to cross, but you let Jack bowl you over like it’s nothing.”

A muscle works in Gabe’s jaw. How long has he spent letting Jack call the shots, how many years? It always seemed easier, even when he didn’t exactly agree - they always got to the place they were reaching for. They were partners. Equals. They built Overwatch together. 

But…

“It’s complicated,” Gabe says again. Jesse drops his hand from Gabe’s chin. Gabe reaches out quickly, catching Jesse’s hand before he moves away. “We’re still going to leave, alright? You and me, like I said.”

Jesse searches Gabe’s face but doesn’t pull away, doesn’t say anything. 

“I mean it,” Gabe says. “Tomorrow morning. We’ll find Jack first thing.”

The silence stretches between them, Jesse’s eyes still searching Gabe’s face, probing, the furrow deepening between his eyebrows. He doesn’t pull away and he finally relents, the tension going out of his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry,” Jesse says. “I just - I’ve seen what happens when folks get walked all over. I been walked all over my whole life. And - well. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know? And I don’t want… I don’t want to lose it. Lose you.”

Gabe pulls him in gently, carefully, so that Jesse could break his grip if he wanted to. But he doesn’t. He steps forward, between Gabe’s knees, chin tilted down to look at him. Gabe slides his hand over Jesse’s hip. 

“I know what you mean,” Gabe says. “Doing something for myself like this - it’s not something I’ve done before.”

“It’s a hell of a scary thing, ain’t it?”

Gabe lets out a little laugh. “Yeah. It is,” he says. He pauses, biting his lip. “But I’m glad I’m doing it. I’m glad I’m doing it with you.”

“Yeah?” Jesse asks, raising his eyebrows, still unsure. Gabe nods. 

“Yeah. I wouldn’t have done it myself - I needed you to give me a push,” Gabe says. “So - thanks.”

“Don’t thank me just yet, darling,” Jesse says, the corner of his mouth turning up. “We haven’t done nothing yet.”

Gabe squeezes Jesse’s hip lightly. “Still.”

“Still,” Jesse echoes. He leans down and catches Gabe’s mouth in a bone-melting kiss, his lips parting and breath warm. Gabe lets his eyes slide shut, gives himself over to it. He pulls Jesse in closer with his fingers digging into the fabric of his pants. Jesse goes easily, one hand sliding up along Gabe’s cheek, back into his hair. When he pulls away to speak, his lips barely leave Gabe’s. “How’d I get so lucky as to find you, huh?” he asks, the soft, quiet wonder coming into his voice making Gabe’s heart skip a beat. Gabe clutches at Jesse’s hip. 

“Everyone has their path,” Gabe says. Jesse huffs out a little laugh. 

“And mine leads me to you?”

“Something like that.”

Jesse kisses Gabe again, slow and deep. He swings one leg over Gabe’s thigh, straddling it. Gabe tightens his grip around Jesse’s hips and pulls him in closer. Jesse makes a pleased sound as he wraps his arms around Gabe’s shoulders. His hand cups the back of Gabe’s head, keeping him close as he kisses him with increasing intensity. He tastes faintly of sake and that flavor that’s uniquely  _ Jesse _ that Gabe has come to adore. Gabe lets Jesse lap into his mouth, sloppier with each breath. Jesse rolls his hips and grinds down on Gabe’s thigh. 

“Gabe,” Jesse says against his mouth, fingers carding through his hair. Gabe nips at his lower lip. Jesse breathes out and grinds down harder. Gabe can already feel the hard line of his cock through his pants. “Gabe.”

“Yeah,” Gabe breathes. He tightens his arms around Jesse as he presses his thigh up, offering more pressure, more friction. Jesse lets out a small gasp that turns into a moan. He drops his forehead to Gabe’s shoulder and grinds down on Gabe’s leg in earnest, rolling his hips smoothly along the length of his thigh, his own legs beginning to shake as his cock strains against the front of his pants. 

“Gabe -”

“More?”

“Yeah - fuck, please?”

Gabe shivers. He pushes Jesse off his lap and goes for his own fly. Jesse toes off his boots and deftly slides out of his pants, kicking them to the side. Gabe shifts on the edge of the bed, stroking himself idly, watching Jesse straighten, still in his shirt, his erection peeking out from under the hem. 

“Gabe.”

“Come here.”

Jesse straddles Gabe’s lap again, sliding his hands along Gabe’s jaw and kissing him deeply. Gabe can feel Jesse’s erection, hot and heavy between them, the tip pressing into Gabe’s clothed stomach. Jesse shifts in Gabe’s lap eagerly until Gabe’s dick presses under his balls. 

“Gabe, Gabe,” Jesse says between kisses. 

“I got you,” Gabe murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jesse makes a small sound like a whimper. He shifts again, lining up his cock along Gabe’s. He reaches between them, rucking his own shirt up his chest before he circles both of their dicks with one hand, stroking them down even as his hips still twitch up against Gabe. The feeling of Jesse’s dick sliding against his is enough to make Gabe moan. Jesse, lips back on Gabe’s, swallows down the sound with a pleased one of his own, his hands and hips finding a rhythm that makes Gabe’s toes curl in his boots. 

“Jesse -” Gabe says. “Let me - I want to -”

“Need you, Gabe,” Jesse says. He kisses over his mouth, along his jaw, until his breath is warm and damp on Gabe’s ear. “Need you, Gabe.”

“Yeah. Yeah - Just…” Gabe trails off, pressing his hips up into Jesse’s palm, but Jesse is already sliding off his lap. He moves away to rifle through drawers. 

“You think Shimada has any slick in this place?” Jesse asks. Gabe shakes his head, though he holds out hope. Sure enough, Jesse comes up with a jar of lube like Gabe had at the hotel. Jesse wastes no time unscrewing the lid and dipping his fingers inside. He comes back to Gabe and slings his leg back over Gabe’s lap, one hand steadying himself on Gabe’s shoulder while he reaches back with the other hand to slick himself up. Gabe drops his face to the curve of Jesse’s neck. He presses a kiss to the hollow of his throat and trails his mouth over his skin. Above him, Jesse’s breath hitches. 

“Fuck - I need you inside me, Gabe,” Jesse says. Gabe scrapes his teeth over Jesse’s throat. 

“Yeah,” Gabe breathes. Jesse makes a small noise and lifts himself up. His hand finds Gabe’s cock and strokes it down, his palm slick. Gabe closes his eyes. Jesse guides his cock back against his ass - Gabe can feel the ring of muscle flutter around the tip of him before Jesse starts sinking down, enveloping him in tight heat. He presses his teeth against Jesse’s throat, half-stifling his moan. “Yeah - Jesse -”

Jesse slides down on Gabe’s dick until he’s fully seated in his lap again. Gabe wraps his arms around Jesse’s torso, hands stroking his back, supporting him upright. Jesse rolls his hips. 

“God - fuck, you feel so good Gabe,” Jesse pants. He starts bouncing in Gabe’s lap, slowly at first, then more urgently as he establishes a steady rhythm. “Fuck, Gabe. How’d I - ah - How’d I get so lucky?”

Gabe shakes his head a little, keeping his face pressed into Jesse’s shoulder. His own hips twitch up to match Jesse’s rhythm, but he’s mostly at Jesse’s mercy - which suits him just fine. He likes the way he can feel Jesse’s moans and praises through the walls of his throat so he keeps his mouth there, nipping and kissing over Jesse’s skin. 

“Gabe - Gabe -” Jesse says, over and over again. He’s clutching at Gabe so tightly, like he never wants to let go, like he can draw him in even closer, even though their bodies are pressed up as close as they can be in this position. There’s an edge of desperation to Jesse’s voice that Gabe doesn’t remember hearing before. 

“I’m here,” Gabe says, his breath ghosting over Jesse’s ear. “I’m here. I got you. Not going anywhere.”

Jesse shudders, the tremble going right through his body. He drops his head to Gabe’s shoulder. 

“Gabe,  _ please  _ -”

With a great effort, Gabe stands up, his cock still buried in Jesse’s ass. Jesse makes a surprised noise that quickly turns into a moan. He wraps his legs around Gabe’s waist and tightens his arms around Gabe’s shoulders. Gabe slips his hands under Jesse’s ass, to hold him up but also to move him on his cock. Gabe fucks up into him, feet planted on the floor. The angle is entirely new and different for Gabe, but it feels so fucking good - Jesse clinging to him, his cock trapped between them and leaking into Gabe’s shirt as he fucks into Jesse, as if it’s the last time they’ll get the chance - as if they’ve never fucked before this very moment, as if they’ve been waiting for it forever. 

Jesse sinks his teeth into the curve of Gabe’s neck where it meets his shoulder and his knees almost give out. Instead, Gabe turns - haltingly, reluctant to break the heated rhythm - and deposits Jesse on the bed. His cock slips out as Jesse bounces on the mattress and they both make a little sound of loss. But Gabe quickly repositions himself on his knees between Jesse’s legs, his hands pulling Jesse’s hips up so he can slide back inside of him. Jesse arches up into it, pushing his hips into the air with his shoulders pressed into the sheets. His hair fans out around his head, one sweat damp lock sticking to his forehead. 

“Gabe - please, don’t stop.”

Gabe makes a sound deep in his chest that’s practically a growl. He yanks his own shirt further up his stomach so he can watch his cock disappear into Jesse’s ass. His stomach goes molten as his orgasm begins to build. Gabe digs his fingers into Jesse’s hips - he wonders, faintly, if he’ll bruise. 

“Jesse, Jesse,” Gabe breathes. He feels Jesse clench around him at the sound of his name. Gabe thrusts in deep, chasing the sensation. “Jesse, I’m close -”

“Do it, Gabe, c’mon - please. Wanna - wanna feel it,” Jesse says. His voice has gone higher pitched and needy. Gabe thinks he’ll never get tired of the way it rings in his ears. He hunches over Jesse’s body, snapping his hips forward, his skin slapping against Jesse’s. “There - there, oh fuck Gabe, right there!”

Gabe cries out, his orgasm punching out of him, half-taking him by surprise. He fucks Jesse through it, the sound of their skin on skin going wetter, sloppier as Gabe’s come trickles out of Jesse’s ass around his cock. Jesse moans, arching into Gabe’s thrusts. His dick is leaking a wet spot into his shirt where it’s still rucked up over his stomach. The thought floats through Gabe’s post-orgasmic mind that he wants it in his mouth. He pulls away, watching the trickle of come slide down the inside of Jesse’s thigh as he shifts back. Jesse whines at the loss but then Gabe wraps his lips around the tip of his dick and Jesse’s whine turns into a cry. His hands fly into Gabe’s hair, tugging as Gabe’s mouth slides down the length of his cock. Gabe makes a pleased sound around him. 

“Yeah, Gabe, fuck yeah - you look so good like that - Gabe please -”

Gabe lets his eyes close, fully absorbed in the sensation Jesse’s hands in his hair, his voice in his ears, the salty, musky taste on his tongue. He hollows his cheeks and sucks on the first few inches of Jesse’s dick, his hand wrapped around the base, his tongue lavishing Jesse with attention. Jesse shudders, tightening his fingers in Gabe’s hair. 

“Gabe, I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me - you make me feel so - !”

Jesse’s cock twitches between Gabe’s lips, thick come pulsing over Gabe’s tongue and down his throat. Gabe makes a little noise as he swallows it down. He pulls away and licks Jesse clean before he crawls up the bed to lie next to him. Jesse wraps his arms around Gabe and kisses him deeply. He finally draws away but doesn’t go too far, tucking himself into Gabe’s side, trailing his fingers down the buttons of Gabe’s shirt. 

“You’re something else,” Jesse says. Gabe makes a face. Jesse props himself up on his elbow to look at him. “No, really. You’re not like most of the men I’ve met.”

“Mm, you just haven’t met a lot of men.”

“Please,” Jesse says, rolling his eyes. “I’m a whore, remember?”

“You’re more than that,” Gabe says, letting his voice going soft. Jesse pokes Gabe’s chest, even though he shifts in just a little closer. 

“See, that’s what I’m saying,” Jesse says. “For most folks, I’m a whore. For Deadlock, I’m a whore who can shoot. For you, hell, Gabe. You got me feeling like a real person.”

Gabe looks up to meet Jesse’s eyes. Jesse’s expression is serious, the furrow returning between his eyebrows. 

“You gave me choices, you brought me all the way out here with you,” Jesse says. “I ain’t never got to think of myself like my own person.”

Gabe tightens his arm around Jesse. “Well you should.”

“I do now. You’ve got me thinking.”

“Good,” Gabe says. He presses a kiss to Jesse’s temple as he tucks himself back into Gabe’s side. Gabe feels his eyes slide closed, the tiredness washing over him. 

“We’re really gonna leave in the morning, right?” Jesse asks. 

“Yeah, Jesse. We are.”

“Because - the more I hear about Shimada and that Akande guy, the more I don’t like it,” Jesse says. 

“I don’t like it either. These violent delights have violent ends, and all that.”

Jesse goes still and quiet for a few moments. Gabe wonders if he said something wrong, but then Jesse picks up his head again. 

“This isn’t a game, Gabe. We could die - they’ll kill us.”

“Jesse -”

“They’re not the kind of people I want to work with,” Jesse says. Gabe turns his head to look at him, but Jesse goes on. “I just want to be on the right side of things for once. Together - we can find a way out.”

“How can you be sure?

“There’s - there’s a voice inside of me,” Jesse says, voice wavering a little bit. He’s got that far-away look in his eyes like he had when they first got to Pariah. Worry twists in Gabe’s stomach. “It’s telling me what to do. And it’s telling me I need you.”

Jesse’s eyes refocus, finding Gabe’s with an anxious, almost fearful look. Gabe’s face softens. He leans in and kisses Jesse gently. Jesse makes a small noise and he deepens the kiss, kissing him hard until they’re both breathless. Gabe pulls away first, only going far enough to rest his forehead against Jesse’s. 

“We’re leaving in the morning,” Gabe promises. Jesse lets his breath out and relaxes back into Gabe’s arms. 

※

In the dead of night, the door of the stagecoach swings open. 

※

The man in grey brings his horse to a stop just outside of the gates of the Shimada compound. The guards eye warily the man and the limp form of Sombra draped over his saddle. The man in grey doesn’t dismount his horse, looking down at the guards from his seat. 

“I’m here for Shimada,” the man says. 

“He’s not available,” one of the guards says. 

“Unannounced guests are not welcome,” the other says. The man in grey slides his hands into Sombra’s matted hair at the back of her head and lifts her up so her face is cast in the dim light coming from the compound. 

“It’s in Shimada’s best interests to come speak with me,” the man in grey says. The guards exchange a look. The first one turns and calls out over his shoulder in Japanese. There’s movement in the courtyard behind him as another unseen guard runs inside. The man in grey lets Sombra’s head fall forward again, reaching up to tip his hat to the guards. The guards remain motionless, their expressions giving away nothing, though their eyes linger on Sombra, who still hasn’t moved. 

A few moments later, the third guard returns with Genji Shimada walking behind him, his silk robe flowing around his feet. He doesn’t come down the steps of the compound, choosing instead to regard the man in grey from afar. 

“It’s been a long time, Genji,” the man in grey says. 

“You are not welcome here, old friend,” Genji says, his words belying his pleasant tone. The man in grey smiles, the shadows cast by the dim lights of the compound deepening the scars that criss-cross his face. 

“Which is why I brought you a gift,” the man in grey says. “As a token of apology.”

Genji does not move. The man in grey finally dismounts his horse. He pulls Sombra’s limp body from the saddle. The movement is enough to rouse her back to consciousness. Her head lolls back against the man in grey’s chest. 

“Los Muertos scout,” the man in grey says, pulling Sombra’s head up and towards the light. Her knees knock together, but the man in grey’s grip is strong. 

Finally, Genji descends the staircase, his curiosity getting the better of him. 

“What makes you think I’m interested in a half-dead scout?” he asks, stopping just a few feet away from the man in grey’s reach. 

“I think she’s got some pretty interesting information to share about your dear brother,” the man in grey says. Genji’s eyes flash in the half light. He turns his face up towards the man in grey, calm but for the spark in his eye. 

“And what do you want in return?”

“I’m looking for somebody. Somebody you might remember.”


	8. Quiver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse, Gabe, and Jack get caught in the crossfire of an old sibling rivalry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back! This week there's a lot of blood and violence so, uh, be prepared for that? 
> 
> As usual, I love hearing your thoughts and reactions - either here or on [tumblr](http://wictorwictor.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/smarshtastic)! Thank you so much for your continued support!! It means a lot ♥

The first rays of sunlight peek through the windows of Gabe’s room at the Shimada compound. He and Jesse are already awake, moving around each other as they pack up to leave. Gabe pauses as he finishes lacing up his boots. Jesse is standing at the window, cast in the pale pink light of the early morning sun. It softens his features, making him look warm and young. Gabe feels that flutter in his chest again that he forces himself to swallow down. 

“Can I ask you something?” Gabe asks. Jesse turns towards Gabe and smiles. He crosses to the bed and slides his hand along Gabe’s jaw, leaning in to kiss him softly. Gabe lets his eyes close, the corners of his mouth turning up. After a moment, Jesse pulls away. His eyes are crinkled at the corners as he smiles. 

“Anything you want, darling.”

“This place you’re looking for - what makes you so sure it exists?”

Jesse pauses, a thoughtful look overtaking his face as he considers Gabe’s question. Gabe wonders if he asked the wrong thing, pressed too far, but then Jesse lets his breath out. He shakes his head, lip quirked up at the corner. 

“I’m not,” Jesse says. He spreads his hands. “I don’t even know if it’s a place - there’s just  _ some _ thing there, I know it’s missing, I just can’t put a finger on it. My life before - I was so sure of the world. Of my place in it, of what I could be, of what I could accomplish. It was narrow and small and I had… I had accepted that. But now, hell. Now it feels like a lie. The only thing I know is whatever’s out there - I ain’t going back. I can’t.”

Gabe finds himself smiling, even though he can’t really explain why. Jesse smiles wider. 

“What is it you’re looking for, Gabe?” Jesse asks, stepping in close again. He trails his hands up the front of Gabe’s shirt, fingers lingering on each button like he might pluck them off. “You could’ve… You could’ve stayed in Sweetwater, or gone off with Jack but - but you’re here.”

Gabe hesitates. He catches Jesse’s hand in both of his own, cupping it warm and close to his chest. When he speaks, he keeps his gaze steady on Jesse’s eyes, even though his heart thumps in his throat. 

“When I was a kid, the only thing I had were books. I used to live in them. I used to go to sleep, dreaming, hoping,  _ praying _ I’d wake up inside of them,” Gabe says. “I grew up and became something I had only ever read about - never imagined for myself. It never… It never felt quite right. But this place. This is like I woke up inside one of those stories. I guess I just want to find out what it all means.”

Jesse’s brow furrows, considering. “I… I don’t want to be in a story,” he says eventually. He finds Gabe’s gaze again. Gabe feels his heart skip a beat. “All I want is to not look forward or keep looking over my shoulder - I just want to be… In the moment I’m in.”

Jesse looks at Gabe meaningfully, the heat palpable between them. Gabe tightens his hands around Jesse’s, desperate to keep him close, but Jesse makes no attempt to move away. 

“I’ve been pretending my whole life,” Gabe says, lowering his voice, barely above a whisper. He feels like he’s flaying himself open for Jesse, exposing the most vulnerable parts of himself, the things that nobody has ever seen before. He can’t remember trusting someone as much as he trusts Jesse, as ridiculous as it is. But it feels  _ real _ and it feels  _ right _ and Gabe doesn’t try to stop the words from spilling out of his mouth. “My whole life. Pretending I don’t mind - or pretending I belong. My life’s built on it. It’s… it’s a good life, it is. The life I’ve always wanted. But then, I came here, and I got a glimpse - for a second - of a life where I… Where I didn’t have to pretend. A life where I can truly be - where I actually  _ feel  _ alive.” Gabe pauses, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. Jesse holds his gaze, steady, unwavering, his eyes rounded and earnest. Gabe forces himself to finish his thought. “How can I go back to pretending when I know what this feels like?”

Jesse disentangles his hands from Gabe’s, but he doesn’t go very far at all. Instead, he reaches up to cup both side of Gabe’s face and brings him in close to kiss him deeply, long and slow. Gabe lets his eyes slide closed and kisses him back. 

Nothing about this place should have affected him like it has, but it  _ has _ and Gabe can’t get enough of it now. Thinking about going back to his normal routine, his day to day life, away from here, without Jesse - it’s a harrowing, depressing thought. He wants to lose himself in this fantasy. He never wants to go back. 

Jesse pulls away first, his lips spit-shiny and pink, his eyes bright. “Ready?” he asks. Gabe leans in and kisses him again, just because he can. 

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Gabe slings his pack over his shoulder and Jesse follows close behind. They navigate the winding halls of the Shimada compound, not exactly sure where they’re supposed to go, which way is out - it all looked different the night before. Gabe wonders if it actually  _ is _ laid out differently than it had been the previous night; he wouldn’t put it past Shimada, and he certainly wouldn’t put it past Westworld in general. 

Gabe and Jesse step out into a large room that Gabe doesn’t remember seeing the night before. They’re on a platform with two sets of stairs that lead down to a broad, matted area. As they walk down one set of steps, Gabe sees an enormous, beautifully detailed painting of a dragon presiding over what looks like a shrine. Under a small, curved roof hangs a scroll inscribed with calligraphy. Two swords - katanas, like Genji’s, though perhaps family heirlooms, judging from their ornate appearance - rest in a wooden stand. It’s peaceful here. 

Gabe pauses in front of the swords, considering the calligraphy. Jesse moves a little ways away. 

“Here - these stairs lead outside,” Jesse says. Gabe half turns to him. 

“What do you think -”

“Gabe? Where are you going?” Jack’s voice cuts through the peaceful morning. Gabe turns away from Jesse to find Jack coming up from another set of stairs. He swaying a little, bleary-eyed. 

“We’re going to head back towards Sweetwater,” Gabe says. He finds himself planting his feet, as if readying himself for a fight. Jack looks past Gabe at Jesse, then - with some difficulty - refocuses on Gabe. His expression is rapidly darkening. 

“We’re supposed to be heading out with Akande today,” Jack says. 

“You can go,” Gabe says. “I know that’s what you want, and you should do that.”

“We’re supposed to be going together,” Jack says, his tone going accusatory. He takes a couple of swaying steps towards Gabe. 

“I told you, Jack. I don’t want to play war games out here too,” Gabe says. He shakes his head. “I’m tired. You said - people come here to change their lives, right? To do something different, for once. Well, I just want to do the right thing -”

“Oh my  _ god _ ,” Jack says. He stumbles the rest of the way towards Gabe so he can jab a finger into Gabe’s chest. “You have  _ got  _ to stop thinking like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like there’s a good side and a bad side - heroes and villains. Everything’s shades of grey, even here. You, trying to play the right side of things? That’s useless,” Jack says. He jabs his finger into Gabe’s chest again. Gabe doesn’t flinch, even as Jack gets up into his face. He can still smell the alcohol lingering on his breath, stale and sour. “Here, of all places, it’s useless trying to be the good guy. So just fucking - let loose, alright?”

“Alright, Jack,” Gabe says. He starts to turn away. He doesn’t want to fight with him - why can’t Jack just make this easy, for once? “I’ll give that a try.”

Jack reaches out and grabs Gabe’s arm before he’s able to turn away completely. He yanks on Gabe’s arm sharply. Without missing a beat, Gabe pulls his arm out of Jack’s grip. Jack steps in close again. 

“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” Jack hisses. Gabe stops, going completely rigid, immovable. He looks at Jack slowly, his jaw set. “We’re  _ partners _ and we’re doing this together.”

“No, we’re doing things your way, whether I like it or not,” Gabe says. He does his best to modulate his tone, to keep it steady, even as the anger boils just under the surface. “Maybe your way has gotten us this far, but doing things  _ your _ way has its limitations. And I’m tired of ignoring my instincts so you can keep doing what you want to do. So Jesse and I are headed back to Sweetwater. You can enjoy your war games without me bringing you down.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Jack says. Gabe shrugs his hand off his shoulder. 

“No,” Gabe says. “I’m playing by my own rules, now.”

“If I had known all that it took for you to grow a backbone was for you to get fucking laid, I would’ve gotten you a whore sooner,” Jack says nastily. Behind him, Gabe hears Jesse’s boots on the mats and then Jesse has his gun drawn on Jack, his grip unwavering. 

“Call me a whore one more time,” Jesse growls. 

“Jesse, don’t,” Gabe says sharply. Jesse doesn’t lower his gun. 

“I’m tired of listening to his shit,” Jesse says. “And I’m real tired of him acting like a disrespectful asshole just ‘cause he thinks he’s better than everyone else.”

“Come on, try to shoot me,” Jack says, tone going mocking and cruel. “I dare you.”

Jesse cocks his gun. Before anyone can react, an arrow whizzes through the air and pierces the shoulder of Jesse’s gun arm. He stumbles forward, a surprised sound falling from his mouth as he struggles to regain his balance. His revolver clatters to the floor. Gabe reaches for him instinctively as another arrow whizzes past his own ear. 

“What the fuck?” Jack asks. Gabe whips around to see several men coming down the stairs that lead to the balcony outside. The man who spearheads the group of intruders looks familiar, but Gabe can’t place him - the bow in his hands is a more pressing threat. Gabe bends quickly and grabs Jesse’s revolver from the floor before he hauls Jesse up. Jesse leans into his side, but there’s a glint in his eyes that is wholly unfamiliar to Gabe. 

“My gun,” Jesse says. 

“We have to get out of here -”

“My gun,” Jesse says again. Instead of arguing, Gabe presses Jesse’s gun into his hand. He tries to turn them around, looking for an escape route, but Jesse plants his feet. 

“Jesse -”

Jesse aims down the barrel of his gun. If Gabe had to recount the story later, he’d leave out the fact that it looked like Jesse’s eye glinted red before he brought the side of his hand down on the hammer of his revolver quickly, six shots ringing out in quick succession. Six men fall, one for each bullet, but the man with the bow at the head of the group keeps advancing, another arrow nocked and ready. Gabe reaches his shoulder for his shotgun as more intruders come down the stairs. Behind him, he hears what must be Genji’s men shouting as they converge on the room. 

“Jesse -” Gabe tries again, but Jesse’s reloading his gun and raising it to shoot again. An arrow sails through the air and sinks into Jesse’s chest. He doesn’t stumble or flinch. Instead, he just reaches up and yanks the arrow out of his chest, dropping it to the floor and firing his gun. Stunned, Gabe stands rooted to the spot, his shotgun hanging loose in his hands. 

Genji’s men flood into the room, swarming over Gabe and Jack who remain motionless, meeting the intruders head on. Gabe finally blinks the shock out of his eyes and raises his gun, joining the fray. He tries to keep an eye on Jesse, but the chaos of bodies around him is too much to make sense of. It’s impossible to tell who is who, which side is which, and Gabe is reluctant to make any calls he’ll later regret. Two men jump on him, and then a third, sending him tumbling to the floor. His shotgun is ripped out of his hands and it skids away, out of reach, out of sight. Gabe throws a punch but one man presses down on his arms while another grabs his legs. Gabe is strong, but he’s no match for three - now four - men. He thrashes, doing his best to buck them off. The man with the bow suddenly looms over him, bow drawn, arrow knocked and pointed right between Gabe’s eyes. 

Shots ring out. The men holding Gabe to the ground go limp as the bullets from Jesse’s revolver puncture their skulls. Above Gabe, the man with the bow wobbles, blood blossoming through his shirt. He falls, loosing the arrow as he tips forward onto Gabe. The arrow sinks into the matted floor by Gabe’s ear. 

Everything goes very, very quiet. 

Gabe scrambles to his feet with difficulty. When he finally stands, Jesse is there, chest heaving, bleeding from his nose, his gun held loosely in his hand. He meets Gabe’s eye. 

“Jesse?” Gabe asks. Jesse nods. He drags the back of his hand over his nose and blinks at the streak of blood the gesture leaves on his skin. “How did you do that?”

Jesse drops his hand at his side. He drags his eyes away from the pile of bodies on the floor and looks at Gabe. 

“You said - you said that people come here to change their lives,” Jesse says. “I imagined a story where I could be free.” 

The sharp sound of steel cuts through the air. Gabe feels the cold press of a katana at his throat. He puts his hands up slowly, following the length of the blade without moving his head. 

“What did you do?” Genji hisses, eyes flashing in anger. 

“We were attacked,” Jesse says, holstering his gun and putting his own hands up. Out of the corner of his eye, Gabe sees Jack extract himself from his own pile of bodies, unsteady on his feet and looking fairly battered himself. 

“You brought this upon yourselves,” Genji says. He practically spits out the words, keeping the sword at Gabe’s throat as he speaks. “When I asked you to retrieve the stagecoach for me, I gave you explicit instructions, and now? Look at this mess -”

“If Gabe had just shot that last guy -” Jack starts to say. Genji whips around, pointing the sword at Jack. The edge of the blade leaves behind a thin cut along Gabe’s throat; he can feel a droplet of blood slide down his neck and soak into the collar of his shirt. 

“You were not to kill  _ anyone _ ,” Genji says. He presses the tip of his sword into Jack’s sternum, freezing him in place. “And now you’ve spilled even more blood in my family’s dojo. For what, tell me? For what purpose did you inflict this violence?”

One of the bodies move. The four of them turn towards to movement to see the man who lead the intruders with his bow, roll over onto his back, his eyes glazes with pain. A strange expression passes over Genji’s face. He steps towards the man. 

“Hanzo,” Genji says, his tone somewhere between disgust and despair. “What have you done?”

The man - Hanzo - lets out a wet cough that might be a laugh. Blood bubbles up between his lips and trickles over his cheek. 

“Genji,” Hanzo says, his voice coming out with a wheeze. “My brother.”

“You do not get to call me your brother any longer,” Genji says. Hanzo laughs again, more blood trickling out of his mouth. 

“I did not think we’d have the chance to meet again.”

Gabe finally places the man’s face; he was the stagecoach driver, the one that Gabe let get away after he attacked Jack. At the time, it seemed like the right decision. But now, Gabe isn’t so sure. Genji steps over to the man, lowering his katana to his side, though his stance looks poised to strike again. 

“Because you thought you had killed me,” Genji says. “You did a poor job of that.”

“And you have yet to kill me, brother,” Hanzo says. His body shakes with the force of another cough. He isn’t long for this life, judging from the way his wound bleeds through his shirt. 

“Do not take my inaction for mercy or hesitation, Hanzo,” Genji says. “I want to see you suffer.”

Hanzo laughs. It turns into a wheeze. 

“This is the fate I deserve, is it not?” Hanzo says. His eyes flutter, straining to stay open. His voice goes softer, almost pleading. “Brother, please. Forgive me.”

Genji looms over him, his fingers flexing around the grip on the handle of his katana. He doesn’t raise his weapon against his brother. 

“You brought shame to our family,” Genji says.

“I tried to -” Hanzo stops to cough wetly. “To rectify it. What you did -”

“What  _ I  _ did was nothing compared to what you did. You tried to kill me, and you failed. You ran away, with your tail between your legs, to hide like a coward. I rose from the ashes of your failure and brought our family back from the brink. I will not have you squander my hard work.”

“Genji -”

Genji raises his katana, slowly, deliberately. Hanzo’s eyes follow the blade. “On your knees, Hanzo.”

Hanzo struggles to comply, his body shaking with the effort, his knees slipping in his blood and the blood of his associates. Finally, he sits up on his knees, shoulders slumped forward but his head tilted back to look Genji in the eye. 

“With every death, comes honor,” Genji says, meeting Hanzo’s eyes. Hanzo’s shoulders droop further, a strange, peaceful expression coming over his face. 

“With honor, redemption,” Hanzo says. Genji brings the katana down in a graceful arc, the blade meeting Hanzo’s flesh where his neck meets shoulder, then cutting down through his torso. Hanzo doesn’t make a sound as his body falls in two halves back into the pile of his fallen associates. 

Gabe looks away, his stomach flipping over. Genji wipes his blade clean before he sheaths it. 

“Get cleaned up,” Genji says, already turning away. “I am not finished with you three yet.”

More guards appear out of nowhere, closing in around Gabe, Jesse and Jack. Jack takes a swing at one of them, but he’s in no state to fight back. They subdue him quickly, pinning his arms behind his back. Jack gives in, at least, without further protest. 

“Do not test me, Mr. Morrison,” Genji says. “I am in no mood. Take them to their rooms. Do not let them leave.”

The guards march Gabe, Jesse and Jack back upstairs. Jack grumbles the whole walk up, though he doesn’t try to make a break for it. 

“This is your fault,” Jack mutters. 

“Mine? If you had just let us go -” Gabe says. 

“You should’ve killed that asshole when you had the chance,” Jack says. “ _ That’s _ what I mean.”

Gabe doesn’t say anything - he had the same thought. It’s too late now.

The guards shove Jack into his quarters and position themselves in front of the door. The other guards take Gabe and Jesse the rest of the way to Gabe’s room. Fortunately, they don’t try to separate Jesse from Gabe - the two of them are shoved into Gabe’s room unceremoniously, the door sliding shut behind them with a click. 

Gabe turns to Jesse immediately, the image of Jesse pulling the arrow out of his own chest burned in his mind. The broken stub of the other arrow still peeks over his shoulder. 

“Are you okay?” Gabe asks. Jesse looks up, his eyes looking a little lost for a moment. 

“I’m…” he starts to say then trails off. 

“Here - you sit. There’s got to be something we can do to clean you up,” Gabe says. When Jesse doesn’t move, Gabe takes him gently by the elbow and guides him to the bed. He presses him down on the edge. Jesse looks up at Gabe. His face is streaked with blood, his expression pained. Gabe feels something clench up in his chest. “It’s alright. I got you. Just - sit there for a minute, okay?”

“Alright,” Jesse says. Gabe leans down and presses a quick, light kiss to Jesse’s mouth. He tastes the iron tang of blood on his lips when he pulls away. He moves into the bathroom, searching for something - anything to get Jesse cleaned up. 

Gabe catches a glimpse of his face in the mirror hanging over the basin; he looks ashen, shell-shocked. He pauses just for a moment, steadying himself on the edge of the basin. Genji’s execution of his brother plays over and over in his mind's eye. It struck a horribly familiar chord with Gabe, recalling beheadings he had seen when working on terrorist cases back in his military days, or the inelegant gang violence when Gabe tracked cartels. He forces himself to take a couple steadying breaths. He needs to focus: he needs to make sure Jesse is okay. He finds some thin towels and fills a bowl with water and brings it back out to Jesse to find him sprawled back on the bed. Gabe feels his heart drop somewhere around his toes. 

“Jesse -” Gabe says, practically lunging for the bed, trying to make sure that his chest is still rising and falling. Jesse turns his head as the bed dips. His face is creased in pain. 

“Hey,” Jesse says. Gabe cups his cheek. 

“You’re alright. I got you.”

“Lucky me,” Jesse says. 

“Yeah,” Gabe says, fingers curling against Jesse’s cheek. “I still need you, Jesse.”

Jesse lets out a little laugh, though it makes him wince. 

“Don’t get sappy on me now,” he says. Gabe clicks his tongue. 

“Let's see about those scratches then,” Gabe says. He helps Jesse sit back up and peel off his shirt. He drops it on the floor - it’s not worth saving. The wound in Jesse’s chest is still bleeding sluggishly, his skin torn up from where Jesse had yanked the arrow from his flesh. Gabe cleans the blood away carefully, keeping his touch light. Jesse winces but doesn’t say anything. Gabe presses one of the dry towels to the wound. “Here - hold that. Let me look at your shoulder.”

“Yeah,” Jesse says, lifting his hand with difficulty to press the towel against his chest. Gabe shifts behind him to look at what’s left of the arrow in Jesse’s shoulder. The shaft had snapped off at some point during the ambush, leaving the arrowhead embedded in Jesse’s skin with just a short fragment of the shaft poking out. Gabe grimaces. 

“Do you want me to pull it out?” Gabe asks. 

“Ain’t doing any good staying in there,” Jesse says. He turns his head slightly, to look over his shoulder at Gabe. “You think you can get it?”

“It’ll be unpleasant.”

“I trust you,” Jesse says. Gabe lets his breath out. 

“Alright,” he says. He cleans off the area around the arrow as best as he can and wraps one of the towels around the shaft for a better grip. Gabe places his palm against Jesse’s back, putting pressure on the area around the embedded arrow. “Keep breathing.”

Jesse nods jerkily. Gabe yanks on the shaft and it comes free with just a little bit of resistance, dripping blood down Jesse’s back. Jesse hisses through his teeth. He quickly presses a towel to the torn up skin and puts pressure on it to staunch the blood flow. Jesse makes a small noise. 

“Still okay?” Gabe asks. Jesse nods again. Gabe can hear him force himself to take a deep breath through his nose. 

“Been better,” Jesse says after a moment, voice strained. 

“It’s out at least,” Gabe says. 

“I can’t decide if it’s better or worse than getting shot with a bullet,” Jesse says. He turns his head a little to look at Gabe over his shoulder. 

“Preferably you aren’t shot at all,” Gabe says. He peeks under the edge of the towel, but the blood is still bright red and fresh. He puts pressure on it again. 

“Yeah. Well, if wishes came true,” Jesse says. He lets his breath out slowly, relaxing as best as he can under Gabe’s hands. “You okay?”

Gabe blinks. In the heat of the ambush, he hadn’t paid any mind to his own injuries - a few grazes, a few bruises, the thin cut across his throat from Genji’s sword. 

“Nothing major,” Gabe says truthfully. “I’ll be fine.”

“Good,” Jesse says. He goes quiet and Gabe listens to his breathing steady and lengthen. Maybe the worst of it has passed. He checks under the towel again. The blood is starting to slow. 

“What you did back there…” Gabe starts to say, then stops, searching for the right words. He’s not exactly sure what he saw - if he was meant to see it, or if it was some sleight of hand Westworld was using against him. 

“Hm?”

“I’ve never seen anyone shoot like that,” Gabe says finally. 

“Best shot in Deadlock,” Jesse says. “Not that I get much practice any more.”

“Still. You saved me,” Gabe says. 

“Hell, Gabe, it’s not a thing,” Jesse says, ducking his head. 

“Seems like a pretty big thing to me,” Gabe says, nudging him gently. Jesse peeks over his shoulder again. His voice goes a little far away. 

“I was always a good shot, but with Peacekeeper - well. She’s something else. Ain’t nobody else can handle her like me.”

“It’s impressive.”

“Thanks,” Jesse says. He pauses. “I take no pleasure in it - in killing a man. Not like Genji, or his brother, or even Jack. If I have to do it, that’s one thing, but…”

Gabe squeezes Jesse’s uninjured shoulder with his left hand, gently. 

“It stays with you,” Gabe says quietly. “I know. If it’s something you don’t have to do…”

Jesse nods. Neither of them say anything for a few moments, lost in their own thoughts. Jesse breaks the silence first. 

“It’s why I wanted to leave, Gabe,” he says. “Leave this place, leave Genji and Akande behind. It’s why I wanted to leave Deadlock in the first place. I’ve done enough killing. You showed me there might be something more out there. I wanna find out what that is.”

Gabe doesn’t know what to say, so instead he drops a kiss to Jesse’s shoulder. 

“We will,” Gabe says, more confident than he feels, acutely aware that they’re at the mercy of Genji’s whims now. “We’ll figure it out.”

Jesse reaches over his shoulder haltingly, the pain making his movement jerky and slow, but he still manages to find Gabe’s hand and laces their fingers. 

After Gabe is sure the bleeding has stopped, he gets up to get a fresh towel to tear into strips for a proper dressing. He brings Jesse a clean shirt too - one of the ones that appeared in his pack overnight. Jesse has some difficulty getting his arms through the sleeves so Gabe helps, hands steadying and careful. He lets Jesse button it up himself. 

“This is probably the fanciest thing I’ve ever worn,” Jesse says, fingers lingering on the mother of pearl buttons that go down the front. 

“It’s yours now.”

Jesse looks up, eyebrow cocked. “What, ‘cause I’ve bled on it?”

Gabe lets out his laugh in a huff. He leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of Jesse’s mouth. 

“It looks good on you,” Gabe says. Jesse hides his pleased look with a duck of his head. He shifts on the bed, trying to get comfortable - Gabe can see the discomfort in his face. He wishes he could do more for his wounds. 

“You’re bleeding,” Jesse says. He reaches up to run his fingers lightly over the cut along Gabe’s throat. 

“It’s not deep.”

Jesse frowns, but he lets his hand fall away. 

“What do we do now?”

Gabe had been wondering the same thing. “I guess we wait for Shimada.”

“I don’t love that.”

“What choice do we have?”

Jesse lets his breath out. “Yeah.”

So they wait. After a while, Jesse gets up and starts pacing, his steps slow and unsteady. Gabe watches him pace back and forth. 

“You should rest,” Gabe says. Jesse pauses as he turns. 

“I don’t feel much like sitting still right now,” Jesse says. 

“I get that. But we don’t know what Shimada has in store for us,” Gabe says. “We might need our strength.”

Jesse screws up his face but keeps pacing. Gabe lets him - he’s said his peace. Eventually, he lies back on the sheets and watches the shadows shift and lengthen on the ceiling instead. He must fall asleep, because the next thing he hears is Jesse’s voice. 

“Don’t - don’t -!”

Gabe blinks open his eyes blearily and sits up to find Jesse standing in the middle of the room, face twisted up but eyes unfocused, his shoulders heaving with desperate breaths. 

“Jesse?” Gabe asks. Jesse doesn’t respond. Gabe scrambles up and goes to touch Jesse’s shoulder. He doesn’t even blink. Gabe shakes him a little - he doesn’t want to startle him, but the way Jesse’s face has gone distant is frightening. He’s practically hyperventilating now and Gabe feels powerless to stop it. He shakes Jesse again, harder this time, his voice going more urgent. “Jesse - Jesse, listen to me.”

Jesse sucks in his breath and blinks rapidly, tears in his eyes. He focuses on Gabe’s face. 

“Gabe?”

“I was calling you and you just - you just kept going -”

Jesse looks away from Gabe, looks around at the room around them. “Where are we?”

“We’re here, together. The Shimada compound in Pariah.”

Jesse looks back at Gabe. “And then where? Where - when - is this now?” Jesse’s voice wavers, dropping to a hoarse whisper. “Am I going mad? Is this real? Are - are you real?”

Jesse reaches up and cups Gabe’s face, fingers trailing through the stubble on Gabe’s cheek. Gabe leans into his touch, putting one hand over Jesse’s against his cheek. 

“Of course I’m real,” Gabe says. He sees Jesse’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows. 

“I can’t tell anymore,” he says. His fingers curl against Gabe’s cheek, the urgency still in his voice, the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over. “It’s like I’m trapped in a dream or a memory from a lifetime ago. One minute I’m here, and the next -”

“Hey - it’s okay,” Gabe says, pulling Jesse in a little, trying to be gentle about it, trying to be reassuring, even though he’s not sure what Jesse needs right now. “I’m here. You’re just - you’re trapped in memories. Bad ones. You’re probably just - you should rest. You lost some blood…”

Jesse searches Gabe’s face. Gabe wants to know what it is Jesse is seeing - what’s causing him so much distress - but he doesn’t want to make it worse. He just wants to make it better for Jesse, make it right for him, for once. Finally, finally, Jesse practically collapses into Gabe’s arms, pressing his face into the crook of his neck. 

“I’ll get you out of this, Jesse,” Gabe says, a promise he’s not sure if he can keep. Jesse doesn’t say anything; Gabe can feel a trickle of moisture down his collar. He tightens his arms around Jesse, holding him close, protective. 

A knock on the door makes Jesse go stiff against his chest. 

“Gabe,” Jesse says, slightly muffled. Gabe doesn’t want to let Jesse go, but Jesse picks up his head to look at him, anxiety making his eyes tight and his brow pinched. “They’re here.”

The guards escort Gabe and Jesse through the Shimada compound. Gabe tries to keep track of their path, but the route seems to have shifted, as has Gabe’s understanding of the layout of the building. The guards turn a corner and then Jack appears with another set of guards, looking oddly subdued. He meets Gabe’s eye but doesn’t say anything. Gabe wonders if the guards roughed Jack up. He feels a little bad for hoping that they did. 

Somehow, they end up back in the big room where they had been attacked. The bodies are gone, but the blood still stains the mats that cover the floor. Under the small curved roof of the shrine, Genji sits inhumanly straight with his back to the swords. His eyes are steely, following Gabe, Jesse and Jack as they come into the room. The guards line them up shoulder to shoulder in front of Genji and fall back, positioning themselves in front of all the possible escape routes. Gabe’s breath sticks in his throat; he has to swallow down the claustrophobic feeling that forms a lump in his throat. They’re trapped. It’s not a situation that Gabe has let himself fall into in a very, very long time. 

Genji regards them coolly, letting the silence stretch on and on until Gabe feels Jack shift restlessly at his side. 

“Mr. Reyes, Mr. McCree,” Genji says finally. “I hear that you tried to take your leave without first saying goodbye.”

Gabe opens his mouth to speak but Genji presses on. 

“After the events of this morning, I’m sure you understand that I cannot let you leave,” Genji says. Gabe feels his chest clench up. He digs his fingers into his palms, curling his hands into fists at his sides. 

“I wasn’t leaving,” Jack blurts. Genji lets the outburst hang in the air. 

“You are all responsible for the return of my brother to this place,” Genji says. “Had you acquired the stagecoach as I had asked, this wouldn’t have been a problem.”

Gabe can’t help the twinge of validation at that; there were rules for a reason. It might look to Jack like Gabe flaunts the rules to get his job done, but it’s more than just randomly breaking decorum. There’s choices - Gabe weighs each of them carefully. It’s always a calculation. Maybe he was wrong, in this instance, for sparing Hanzo’s life after Jack fired the first shot, but Gabe can live with that. He’s made worse calls - and he’s had to live with that too. 

“You will all accompany Akande to the border,” Genji says. “You will make this right.”

※

The guards stand over Gabe, Jesse and Jack as they saddle their horses early the next morning. Radiating amusement, Akande watches from the entrance of the stable, where he stands with his equally enormous horse. Jack stays quiet, still oddly subdued as they get ready. Gabe keeps an eye on Jesse, but Jesse isn’t looking at him. Guilt wells up in Gabe’s chest; he promised he’d lead Jesse to a better life, and he can’t help but feel like he’s already failed him.

“Enough dawdling,” Akande says, his amusement giving way to impatience. He swings himself up into the saddle of his horse. “We’re losing daylight.”

Gabe, Jesse and Jack mount their own horses. It occurs to Gabe that once they get out of sight of Pariah, they might still be able to make a break for it. His eyes slide to Jesse again, wishing that he could impart that thought into his brain telepathically. He might still get a chance to tell him, so he tucks the thought away for later, a small spark of hope to keep his head up and screwed on straight. 

As they ride out of the Shimada clan’s stable, the lithe woman Gabe remembers from Genji’s receiving room when they first met with Akande appears atop her own horse, an inky black mare. 

“Widowmaker,” Akande says. “Good of you to join us.”

She tosses her long ponytail over her shoulder with an annoyed click of her tongue. 

“Do not call me that,” she says. Gabe is surprised to hear such a thick French accent in these parts. Akande leans over towards Gabe and Jack. 

“Do you know why they call her Widowmaker?”

“I can guess,” Jack says, doing a poor job of keeping the dryness out of his voice. Akande’s eyes go sinister with a dangerous gleam. 

“The first woman Lacroix made a widow was herself,” Akande says. He leers at them, taking too much pleasure in revealing this fact about his companion for Gabe’s comfort. “She murdered her own husband while he slept. Strangled him with her bare hands, then slit his throat for good measure.”

Lacroix makes a disgusted noise and rides ahead of them, her holding back straight with a grace Gabe would normally associate with a dancer. He notices the knife strapped to her side as it catches the sunlight and wonders how much truth there is to Akande’s story. He wonders, too, how much loyalty she has for Akande - if he could possibly sway her to his side when he tries to make his escape with Jesse. 

They follow Lacroix out of the Shimada compound. Gabe can still feel the guards’ presence at his back as they ride out. When he glances behind him, he’s almost certain he sees Genji Shimada watching them leave from a balcony, but when Gabe blinks, the specter is gone. He faces forward again, looking out at the sparsely populated edge of Pariah that the compound occupies, and the seemingly endless, empty hills that stretch between them and the horizon. 

“We have a long ride to the border,” Akande says. “Look alive.”

With a flick of her reins, Lacroix leans forward in her saddle and urges her horse into a brisk trot. Akande follows suit, bringing his horse around the edge of their group and up behind Gabe, Jesse and Jack, effectively herding them forward. The horses break into their own uneasy trot. Buckshot’s ears are flattened against her head. Gabe manages to catch Jesse’s eye. 

“Okay?” he mouths. Jesse gives him a half-hearted shrug, a resigned expression settling over his face. That guilty feeling twinges in Gabe’s chest again. It only makes him more determined than before to make this right. 

※

Sombra wakes in an unfamiliar place, her cheek pressed against a hard, thin mat. She blinks the disorientation out of her eyes as she tries to sit up. Her world pitches and spins. She wobbles on the spot, feeling like she might slip off the edge of the earth if she moves the wrong way. 

“Careful,” a soft, lilting voice says somewhere to her left. Her heart sinks as the voice conjures up a sinister familiar feeling. Slowly, carefully, she turns towards the speaker. It takes her eyes a moment to adjust, for the double vision to clear, but the man’s steely eyes and scarred face are unmistakable. Genji Shimada. Sombra tries to lunge away but the edges of her vision threaten to go black. Shimada tsks at her. “You’ll make all of our hard work come undone.”

“You should have let me die,” she says, her voice coming out thin and hoarse. Shimada smiles - she still has trouble focusing on his face, which looks even more sinister in double. 

“Our old friend wouldn’t let that happen,” he says. “You know he is not a man to cross.”

“He doesn’t have to know,” Sombra says. “Please.”

Shimada’s face doesn’t soften, exactly. He looks at her with pity in his eyes. “I cannot do that.”

“Please,” she says again. 

Shimada stands up slowly. “You should get some rest.”

“Shimada -” she says, but he’s already moving away, his shoulders rigid, unyielding. “Shimada!”

He slips through the door before Sombra is able to get to her feet. She collapses back down against the hard mat, shaking with fear and anguish. 

※

The man in grey stands in the dojo, in front of the rack of heirloom katanas, admiring the woodwork of the handles, the graceful curve of the blade. He remembers the first time he came to this place, to Pariah, to the Shimada compound. It feels like a long, long time ago. 

“The scout will survive,” Genji says, appearing in the dojo on almost soundless feet. The man in grey turns to look at him. 

“Well glory and hallelujah,” the man says. Genji pauses at the edge of the broad, matted floor, folding his hands behind his back. 

“Why have you come here, really?” he asks. The man in grey smiles. 

“Perhaps you remember my associates?”

Genji’s face gives nothing away. “I think the past is best left where it lies.”

The man in grey smiles slowly. “You’ve seen them.”

“I’ve said no such thing.”

“You didn’t have to,” the man in grey says. He advances on Genji with slow, deliberate steps. Genji doesn’t move; he’s not a man that is easily intimidated. He tilts his head back to keep his eyes locked with the man in grey’s. “Where are they?”


	9. War Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuck with Talon, Gabe scrambles for a way out with Jesse.

Akande drives Gabe, Jesse, and Jack into the hills beyond Pariah until the town shrinks and disappears over the horizon. The landscape changes as they crest the hills and head down into the valley beyond them. They follow the river as it winds through the rolling hills. It’s pretty here - a softer green with the cool breeze picking up off the surface of the river. Almost peaceful. 

“If you head west across the river, you won’t come back from there. It’s unclaimed territories,” Akande says, interrupting Gabe’s train of thought. 

“What’s out there?” Gabe asks before he thinks better of it. Akande grins at him, a cruel, cold look. 

“You’re going to have to ask the dust.”

Gabe doesn’t say anything for the rest of the day. He keeps an eye on Jesse, but Jesse doesn’t say anything either. He mostly keeps his eyes straight ahead, between Buckshot’s unhappy ears. Jack, on the other hand, loses his subdued attitude sometime in the afternoon. He starts talking with Akande, probing into who he is and what they’re setting out to do. Gabe listens but doesn’t chime in. Jack’s line of questioning is clumsy, unsubtle - Gabe is reminded that there’s a reason he’s generally kept the interrogation-type missions for himself. If it bothers Akande, though, he doesn’t seem to say as much. Akande seems more than happy to discuss his organization and their plans for the war. 

He calls it Talon. 

“Lacroix once compared us to the carrion birds you see following a sick animal, or descending upon an abandoned carcass - we sense weakness and exploit it. We make a meal out of others’ misfortune,” Akande says, speaking in that expansive way Gabe is quickly finding irritating - as if Akande is preaching at some kind of revival meeting. “We don’t discriminate. Anything, anyone can provide what we need. Our loyalties are to ourselves. Through conflict, we grow stronger. Like scarred flesh - when the wound heals, our skin becomes stronger in its place.”

Gabe is strongly reminded of some of the extremist nuts that’s he’s dealt with as anti-terrorism assignments; Akande has that same way about him. Worryingly, though, Jack doesn’t seem to make the same connection. He listens to Akande’s words with rapt attention. 

Akande goes on and on, no doubt entranced by the sound of his own voice. Gabe tries to tune him out, instead focusing his attention on how he and Jesse might make their escape. He glances sideways at Jesse again, hoping to catch his eye, but Jesse isn’t looking at him. That guilty feeling swells in Gabe’s throat again. 

He has to make it right. 

As the sun begins to sink towards the horizon, Akande steers then towards a copse of trees at the river’s edge. When they get closer, Gabe sees evidence of a camp tucked between the trees, using the little grove as cover. There’s people moving through the camp - maybe a dozen, give or take, judging from what Gabe can see of the camp as they approach. Gabe’s heart sinks. This complicates his escape plan. 

Gabe tries to put aside the initial setback. It’s not impossible; he just has to reconfigure his plan. He has to pay attention. 

Lacroix rides into the camp first, leading the others to a place where they can tether their horses close enough to the river for a drink. She slides down from her horse gracefully and leaves the men to tie up their own horses. Akande ties his own horse up and watches over the other three as they do the same. Out of the corner of his eye, Gabe sees Jesse’s hand linger on Buckshot’s neck. 

“Hurry up,” Akande says irritably. Jesse lets his hand fall away, turning his head to find Gabe’s eyes. Gabe gives him what he hopes is a reassuring look. Jesse falls into step beside him as they follow Akande into the Talon camp. 

It’s a surprisingly large, well-organized operation; there’s several tents set up around a large central campfire. There’s another layer of tents beyond the initial circle closer to the fire, tucked into the trees further away from the river. If Gabe had to guess, the camp could easily accommodate thirty, maybe forty people. He only sees about a dozen milling around the campfire, though, corroborated by the number of horses tied up with the others they had ridden here. It makes Gabe uneasy - where are the others? What happens if they come back?

Akande leads them to the campfire and gestures to a sitting area out of the way of the smoke. Someone is minding a spit, turning an unidentifiable hunk of meat slowly. It smells amazing and Gabe is suddenly aware of the fact that he can’t remember his last meal at this point. 

“Sit,” Akande says, gesturing expansively at the camp. “Make yourselves at home. You’re part of Talon now.”

“Are we?” Jack asks as he flops down. Akande grins down at him, the firelight casting his face in sinister shadows. 

“It’s either that, or you go back and take your chances with Shimada,” Akande says. “And I think you’re of better use out here than dead in Shimada’s little house.”

“It all depends, I guess,” Jack says, leaning back on his elbows. Akande raises his eyebrows, amused. 

“Oh, does it?”

One of the Talon people appears with a chair that they place behind Akande without a word. Akande sits with the air of a king taking his throne, leaning back, legs slightly spread, at ease. 

“It depends on what you have us doing out here,” Jack says. 

“Now, now, Mr. Morrison, you wanted to accompany me to the border before all that nasty business with Shimada’s brother,” Akande says. 

“We didn’t,” Jesse says bitterly, taking Gabe by surprise. Akande half-turns in his seat to look at Jesse. 

“That might be the case, but you’re here now,” Akande says. “You might have more of a taste for it than you think you do.”

“I’m not interested in war,” Jesse says. Akande sits back in his seat, stepping his fingers. 

“Who says this is a war?” he asks. Jesse doesn’t say anything, his scowl enough of a response for Akande, who smiles behind his fingers. “The government might call it a war, certainly, and perhaps Shimada called it that as well. But it’s not more than starving farmers lobbing rocks across the border at underpaid soldiers who don’t care who or what they’re fighting for.”

“So what brings you here?” Gabe asks. “Why get involved in their petty squabbles?”

Akande’s grin widens. 

“You see, there is plenty to be gained from others’ troubles. Talon, as I said before, is an opportunistic group of people. Through conflict, we grow stronger,” Akande says, echoing his words from earlier. 

“To what end?” Gabe asks. 

“Have you never pursued power for the simple pleasure of it, Mr. Reyes?” Akande counters. “Perhaps we will grow stronger than anyone can imagine. Perhaps the journey is, in itself, an end worth pursuing.”

“Isn’t that what you’re all about these days anyway, Gabe?” Jack quips. “I thought that sort of thing would appeal to you.”

“Once again, you’re only ever half-listening to me, Jack,” Gabe says through gritted teeth. He doesn’t want to have this argument with Jack in front of Akande, of all people; there’s no question that Akande  _ will _ listen and will exploit what he hears for his own benefit. Gabe doesn’t want to give him the upper hand any more than he already has it. 

“Now, now,” Akande says, his voice a mockery of a placating tone. “We’re all partners here. There’s no need for hostility - we can help each other.”

Gabe purses his lips but doesn’t say anything more. If he wants to successfully get himself and Jesse out of this situation, he has to play along, at least for a little while. There’s no point in making this more difficult for himself by antagonizing Akande or even Jack, as much as Gabe wants to. 

Akande leans back and calls to another of the Talon people milling around the camp. A moment later, several people reappear carrying plates and bottles. One person goes to the spit to carve hunks of meat directly off the roast. 

“We’ll eat well tonight,” Akande says, accepting a plate heavily laden with meat from the carver. He extends his other hand and another person puts a bottle of some kind of amber liquid into his palm. “There’s work to be done tomorrow, but tonight we can enjoy ourselves and our new partnership.”

Someone brings Jack a plate and his own bottle, and another of each for Gabe. When they bring a plate and a bottle for Jesse, he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“I didn’t agree to be anyone’s partner,” Jesse says. Akande, mid-swig directly from the bottle, pauses and then slowly lowers the bottle, his smile going dangerous. 

“Perhaps you didn’t,” Akande says. “Would you rather service my men? I hear you have a particular expertise for spreading your legs.”

Gabe’s arm shoots out to grab Jesse’s before he can lunge forward. He times it right - it stops Jesse in his tracks. Jesse turns to look at him, surprise and betrayal clear on his face. Gabe gives him a meaningful look.  _ Trust me, trust me, _ he thinks, trying so hard to impart his thoughts into Jesse’s head.  _ Trust me. Please _ . 

Akande laughs, a booming laugh that echoes off the trees that surround the Talon camp. He raises his bottle to Jesse. 

“I’m sure you have other skills, of course,” Akande says. “I heard about how you can handle a gun. I’m sure we’ll have use for your marksmanship.”

Jesse wrenches his arm out of Gabe’s hand. “I’ll be happy to give you a personal demonstration.”

“You can certainly try,” Akande says. “And you certainly won’t live to tell the tale.”

Gabe feels his heart leap into his throat. He wants to grab Jesse back again, but he resists the urge. For what it’s worth, Jesse seems to back down. He sits down next to Gabe. In the flickering light of the campfire, Gabe thinks he can see blood seeping through the fabric of Jesse’s shirt where it’s stretched across his shoulder. He touches Jesse’s knee when he settles again. Jesse glances at Gabe but doesn’t say anything.  _ Trust me, trust me _ , Gabe thinks again. He hopes Jesse does. 

Akande eats and drinks, offering more and more food and liquor to all of them. Gabe only eats enough to satisfy his hunger and ignores the booze entirely. He doesn’t see Jesse touch anything, which he takes as Jesse’s further defiance as opposed to something more worrisome. Jack, on the other hand, eats and drinks heartily. He keeps up a steady stream of conversation with Akande, the two of them getting more and more familiar. It’s worrying, to say the least, but Gabe is inclined to let them both drink themselves to distraction. Gabe has to keep his eyes on the plan. 

Eventually, it gets late enough that Akande decides it's time they retire for the night. Jack is shown to his own tent and Akande tries to give Gabe his own as well. 

“I’d prefer to stay with McCree,” Gabe says evenly. Akande grins. 

“I’m sure you would,” Akande says with a lewd laugh. “Very well. But try not to keep the entire camp up with your activities.”

Gabe bites down on the inside of his cheek instead of responding, managing a strained smile instead. He lets Jesse duck into the tent ahead of him. When he finally steps in, Jesse has crowded himself into a corner, looking very much like a caged animal in the dim, flickering light that filters through the canvas. 

“Hey,” Gabe says quietly, aware of the insubstantial walls between them and the rest of the camp. Jesse lifts his head to look at Gabe, eyes suspicious, anxious, hurt. Gabe’s chest clenches up. He drops his pack just inside the tent flaps. 

“I don’t want to be here, Gabe,” Jesse says. “This ain’t - this ain’t what I meant when I said I wanted to see more.”

“Shh, I know,” Gabe says, crouching down in front of Jesse, still keeping some distance between them in case that’s what Jesse wants. “I know. Just hold out a little longer, okay? I have a plan. We’re gonna get out of here.”

Jesse looks at him skeptically. 

“Do you trust me?” Gabe asks, even though he’s afraid of the answer. Jesse exhales in a rush. 

“You know I do,” Jesse says. Gabe feels some of his own worry evaporate. He reaches out and touches Jesse’s knee. 

“Then just - trust me. We’re going to get out of here tonight,” Gabe says, dropping his voice even lower. Jesse lifts his face up towards Gabe’s. There’s a spark of hope back in Jesse’s eyes. Gabe gives him a small, reassuring smile and squeezes his knee. “We need to get some rest while we can though, alright? How’s your shoulder?”

“I think the dressing slipped or something,” Jesse says. He unfolds himself out of the corner of the tent, opening back up to Gabe. 

“Want me to take a look?” 

“Sure.”

Jesse shrugs out of his shirt with difficulty, wincing as he goes. Gabe reaches out to help and Jesse lets him, passing his shirt off to Gabe when he finally peels it off. There’s definitely blood staining the spot that rested over Jesse’s shoulder wound. Gabe folds the shirt up and sets it aside before he leans in to take a closer look at the dressing on Jesse’s chest. That one seems to have held, at least, even though it’s darkened with blood. When Gabe swipes his fingers over it, they come away clean - the wound isn’t freshly bleeding. 

“Let me see the other,” Gabe says. Jesse shifts so Gabe can look at his shoulder. The blood there is fresher, seeping through the dressing. 

“How is it?”

“Might need a fresh dressing,” Gabe says. He glances around the tent - there’s little more than a thin blanket on a bed roll, but he might be able to make do with Jesse’s ruined shirt. He might have another spare shirt in his pack. “How does it feel?”

“Hurts,” Jesse says, shrugging his non-injured shoulder. “But what can you expect, right?”

“I guess, yeah.”

Gabe finds a canteen and unscrews the tip to sniff at its contents - just plain old water, as far as he can tell. He reaches back for his pack and finds a spare shirt that he doesn’t remember packing. The magic of Westworld. He brings it over to Jesse and settles back into a seat behind him. 

“Let me clean it up again,” Gabe says. “Then we can get some rest.”

Jesse sits forward, legs pressed to his chest and cheek pressed to the tops of his knees. He holds still for Gabe, who does his best to keep his hands steady and his touch light. Gabe tears up the bloodied shirt for new dressings. 

“We’re really going to get out of here this time,” Gabe says as he finishes dressing Jesse’s shoulder. Jesse turns his head to look at him. 

“You’ve said that before,” Jesse says. Gabe drops his hands into his lap. 

“I know,” Gabe says. He lets the regret taint his voice. “I’m going to make it right, okay?”

“I trust you,” Jesse says after a long pause. Gabe lets his breath out. 

“Let’s get some rest. Then we’ll get out of here.”

Gabe hands Jesse the spare shirt from his pack and scoots back to lie down on the thin bedroll. Jesse pulls on the shirt and buttons it halfway before he lies down, tucking himself into Gabe’s side. He shifts half-sprawled over Gabe’s chest, his palm sliding up to rest over Gabe’s heart, leaning his cheek against Gabe’s shoulder. Gabe winds his arm around Jesse’s waist, keeping him close. Neither of them say anything for a long time, listening to each other breathe. Gabe doesn’t want to sleep, to miss the window of opportunity, but he tries to let himself drift into some kind of restful state of mind. Jesse’s warm bulk crowded up close is soothing in its familiarity. He’s struck, once again, by how quickly he’s fallen for him. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

The night deepens, a quiet falling over the Talon camp as the darkness stretches on. The flickering from the campfire through the thin canvas walls of the tent dims and fewer and fewer voices can be heard as Akande’s people settle in for the night. Gabe listens carefully, trying to gauge how many people are still awake - surely there’s at least someone keeping watch. There doesn’t seem to be anyone standing guard over the tent. 

Gabe turns his head to speak into Jesse’s hair, keeping his voice low and soft. 

“Get up and go to the horses. Act like you’re just going to have a piss if someone stops you. Otherwise, take Buckshot and ride west,” Gabe says. Jesse flattens his palm against Gabe’s chest, his fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. 

“What about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you. But you have to ride, okay? Ride hard and don’t look back.”

“Gabe -” Jesse says, then stops. He lifts his head from Gabe’s chest. Gabe can see the dim light reflect in his eyes. He reaches up and cups Jesse’s cheek. 

“I’ll be right behind you, alright?”

Jesse nods. He ducks forward and presses his mouth to Gabe’s, kissing him hard. Gabe feels his chest clench up. He kisses Jesse back, pouring emotion into it, wishing he could say the things he was feeling, but hoping that the intensity of his mouth on Jesse’s is enough. 

Eventually, Jesse pulls away. 

“Go,” Gabe says. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Jesse gives him a little nod. He gets up carefully, grabbing his revolver, and moves towards the tent flaps. Gabe holds his breath, listening. He doesn’t hear any voices, he doesn’t hear anyone at all. He closes his eyes and counts to a hundred, forcing himself to go slowly. He counts to another hundred before he gets up. He only takes what he needs - his gun, a canteen - and leaves everything behind. He steps out of the tent. 

The Talon camp is quiet and still. The campfire smolders, the red glow warming the cool light from the moon that hangs huge and round overhead. Gabe looks around him before he starts moving to where they left the horses tied up by the river. He forces himself to move slowly, deliberately, watching where he places his feet and keeping his ears open for any sounds. Miraculously, Gabe doesn’t run into anyone as he moves through the camp. He doesn’t let himself get his hopes up - not yet. He keeps moving until he hears the trickle of water from the river. The horses are standing close to one another. It takes Gabe a moment, but he doesn’t see Buckshot among them. He has to stop himself from letting out a laugh. Maybe this is going to work. 

Gabe untethers his horse and swings himself up into the saddle, careful not to disturb the others. The horses move aside as Gabe settles atop his horse, shuffling in place but not raising any alarms. Gabe guides his horse away from the camp, slowly, taking his time, careful not to guide his horse into anything that might raise an alarm. He follows the bend of the river, letting the moonlight reflecting off the surface of the water guide his path. His heart is beating hard in his throat, the thrill of adrenaline pumping through his veins. 

_ Not yet, not yet _ , he reminds himself. He rides into the night, urging his horse forward faster as the camp disappears around the hillside, breaking out into a gallop once the path falls away. The cool night air rushes through Gabe’s hair, sending pinpricks of goosebumps running up his spine. 

An acute sense of freedom overwhelms him. His eyes fill with tears and he has to swallow down the whoop that rises in his throat. 

He’s free. 

He lets himself revel in the feeling for a long time, losing himself in the sensation of the wind in his hair, the horse between his thighs, the fresh air in his nose. Finally, he tugs up on the reins and pulls his horse to a slow trot. There’s no sign of the Talon camp from here, but he also doesn’t see any sign of Jesse. Gabe keeps his horse moving, not willing to stop, but staying alert for any sign of Jesse. He’s not sure how long he’s been riding and he can’t judge from the angle of the moon above him. 

A shadow steps out in front of him, the barrel of a gun glinting in the moonlight. 

“Hold it right there,” a familiar voice says. Gabe could practically cry. 

“Jesse,” he says. “It’s me.”

Gabe slides down from his horse and Jesse meets him halfway, wrapping his arms around Gabe’s shoulders and kissing his face. There’s moisture on Gabe’s cheeks but he’s not sure if they’re his tears or Jesse’s. 

“We did it, you’re here,” Jesse says between desperate kisses. “We did it, we did it.”

Gabe clutches at Jesse, trying not to let the relief get the better of him. He makes himself pull away. 

“We need to keep going,” he says. “Put more distance between us and that camp.”

“You’re right,” Jesse says. “You’re right. Alright - let’s get moving.”

Gabe kisses him one last time, deep and desperate and so, so happy. He lets Jesse go so they can both get back on their horses. Buckshot nuzzles up against Gabe’s horse once Jesse is back in the saddle. 

“Let’s ride.”

Side by side, Gabe and Jesse gallop into the night, their eyes fixed on the horizon, heading west until the moon disappears and the sky begins the lighten. They don’t slow until the eastern horizon glows pink with the rising sun. Gabe and Jesse fall into a steady trot, taking stock of their surroundings. Jesse pulls Buckshot to a complete stop, forcing Gabe to stop too. 

“What is it?” he asks. Jesse turns to look at Gabe, his face full of emotion, almost golden in the early morning light. 

“I just realized,” Jesse says. “I just realized we’re going home.” At Gabe’s slightly confused look, Jesse adds, “A new home. Our home.”

Gabe feels his heart flutter in his chest and he has to look away to hide his smile.

“Yeah, you and me, Jesse.”

They take a slower pace during the day, worried about exhausting their horses as the sun warms up. Headed westward, the sun at their backs and then overhead as they find another river that winds through rolling hills. It’s greener here, less harsh than the badlands or even the chaparral outside of Sweetwater. Gabe finds himself thinking that he’s finally gotten to the place where the grass  _ is  _ greener. When he looks at Jesse, Jesse gives him a grin that makes Gabe feel light and bubbly. Jesse starts singing as the day goes on, the twang in his voice soothing a part of Gabe he didn’t know needed soothing. 

He couldn’t have imagined a more perfect situation. 

The sun begins to set and Gabe and Jesse finally start looking for a place to make camp for the night. Gabe is exhausted, albeit pleasantly so, and could really use a couple hours of shut eye and a square meal. They happen to find a little grassy hollow tucked into the hillside along the river that affords them the perfect spot to stop for the night. They dismount their horses but don’t bother tethering them, letting Buckshot and Gabe’s horse graze and drink their fill. 

“You think we can risk a fire?” Jesse asks. 

“We haven’t seen anyone out here,” Gabe says. It’s true; all day long, they hadn’t seen a single soul. It’s been a relief, really. “If we put it out before we slept, I think we’d be okay.”

“I’m just thinking I could go for some dinner,” Jesse says. “If I caught us something…?”

“I could eat a horse,” Gabe says with a little laugh. 

“Well that ain’t an option.”

“I’ll settle for something smaller.”

“Maybe a rabbit or a squirrel?”

“If you can catch one,” Gabe says. Jesse unholsters his gun and winks at Gabe cheekily. 

“Watch me.”

Jesse wanders a little way down the edge of the river. Gabe watches him go before he starts to build a fire. He keeps it small - just enough to cook something like a squirrel. Once he gets the tinder smoldering, Gabe goes and refills his canteen from the river. He splashes some cool water on his face and sits back on his heels, watching the horses graze nearby. He still can’t quite believe this worked - that they managed to pull it off. 

A single shot rings out and Gabe’s head snaps up, his arm already reaching over his shoulder for his gun. But no other sounds follow the shot, so Gabe waits, trying to calm his heartbeat. A few minutes later, Jesse reappears holding a rabbit by its hind legs. He flashes Gabe a smile. 

“Hungry?” he asks. Gabe smiles back at him, forgetting his paranoia. Jesse settles into a seat next to him by the fire and starts cleaning the rabbit, which Jesse seems to have killed with a single shot through the eye. 

Soon enough, Jesse has the rabbit roasting over the fire. Gabe scoots closer and wraps an arm around Jesse’s shoulders. 

“How’re you feeling?” Gabe asks. Jesse tilts his head to look at him. 

“Good. I mean, you know, still sore as hell, but. I dunno - it seems like such a small thing, now that we’re headed west,” Jesse says. His face softens. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Gabe presses a kiss to his temple. “Me too.”

They eat, the roasted rabbit tasting better than it has any right to. Gabe douses the fire and buries it before he and Jesse make a little nest for themselves in the soft grass. The night is quiet and peaceful, enveloping them in velvety darkness. Jesse tangles his legs with Gabe’s and kisses him deeply, slowly, lazily. Gabe holds him close and kisses him back, sliding a hand in Jesse’s hair at the back of his head. He could easily spend the rest of his life just like this. 

“Gabe,” Jesse breathes into Gabe’s mouth. Gabe kisses him again. Jesse catches his lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it gently then kisses him properly. “Gabe.”

Ever-eager, Jesse runs his hand down Gabe’s chest to the waistband of his pants. He palms Gabe’s dick through the fabric and gives it a little squeeze. Gabe’s breath catches in his throat. 

“Gabe,” Jesse says again. 

“Jesse,” Gabe says, letting his breath out slowly. Jesse kisses him again as his clever hand slips into Gabe’s pants. He keeps his lips and tongue on Gabe’s as his fingers wrap around Gabe’s dick, stroking him down. Gabe can feel Jesse’s own erection pressing against his hip. “C’mere, Jesse. Let me -”

Gabe presses Jesse back into the soft grass and shifts down to settle between his legs. He fumbles with the buttons in the dark, but it’s worth it when he gets Jesse’s dick in his mouth. He swallows around him, taking as much of him into his throat as he can. Jesse slides his hands into Gabe’s hair as he moans softly, Gabe’s name on Jesse’s lips. Gabe makes a pleased sound in his chest. Jesse arches underneath him, his breath hitching with each bob of Gabe’s head. His fingers curl in Gabe’s hair. 

“Gabe -!” he manages to gasp before his dick twitches between Gabe’s lips. He comes over Gabe’s tongue, his hips twitching desperately under Gabe’s hands. Gabe moans around him, licking him clean before he comes back up to kiss Jesse. Jesse laps into his mouth, still breathing hard. His hand finds its way into Gabe’s pants again, finding his dick again. He mouths over Gabe’s neck, murmuring sweet nothings. 

“You feel so good darling,” Jesse says, still breathless, riding the high of his own orgasm. “Dunno what I did to deserve you - that’s right, darling, come for me, let me make you feel good - Gabe, fuck, you’re so beautiful -”

Gabe’s toes curl in his boots and he comes over Jesse’s fist, moaning softly. Jesse licks his hand mostly clean and tucks them both away before he settles half-sprawled over Gabe’s chest again. His hand finds its way over Gabe’s heart again. Gabe’s eyes slide closed, heavy, listening to the sound of their breathing lengthen and even out. 

“Thank you,” Jesse murmurs, his face tucked into Gabe’s neck. 

“For what?” Gabe asks. 

“Just - everything.”

Gabe tightens his arm around Jesse. Words rise then stick in his throat. He swallows thickly around the lump and, instead, turns his head to press a kiss into the hair at Jesse’s temple. 

“It’s not a thing, Jesse,” Gabe manages to say finally. 

“Maybe to you,” Jesse says. “But to me - it’s everything.”

Gabe has to pull him up to kiss him properly, emotion welling up in his chest. He doesn’t know how to articulate it - how to make it sound not completely insane - so he kisses Jesse instead. 

It feels like it’s been years that Gabe has ever felt this way about someone else. He’s naturally inclined to be suspicious of it. He’s never been one to let himself feel his emotions, to let himself act on his emotions; his entire life has been a series of careful calculations and trade offs and it has affected how people perceive him and how they interact with him. For the first time, maybe ever, Gabe feels like somebody sees him for who he really is - he feels stripped down, bare, in front of Jesse, and it’s simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. 

Under the inky black sky speckled with stars, Gabe and Jesse drift off to sleep in each other’s arms, content. 

※

An urgent nickering from the horses draws Gabe out of his sleep. He blinks, trying to clear the drowsiness out of his eyes, vaguely confused by his surroundings. It’s still mostly dark, though the sun is starting to warm the horizon. He feels Jesse sit up next to him. 

“What was that?” Jesse asks, his own voice heavy with sleep. 

“Horses?”

A shot cuts through the air and one of the horses lets out a horrible shriek. Jesse scrambles to his feet immediately, Gabe getting up right behind him. Another shot rings out and the other horse’s shrill shriek sends a shudder down Gabe’s spine. Jesse has his gun in his hand but he doesn’t raise it - it’s still just too dark to make out solid shapes from shadows. 

“Well, well,” a familiar voice says behind them. Gabe’s blood runs cold. He turns to face the voice, instinctively reaching for his shotgun, even though he knows it’s still lying in the grass. “Uh uh, don’t even think about it, Gabe. You too - drop the gun. Hands up.”

Next to him, Gabe feels Jesse shift, hears the dull thud of the revolver as it falls to the ground. 

“We’ve been looking for you for hours,” Jack says, leaning forward in his saddle. Gabe can see his white teeth flash in the morning twilight. “Man, you guys are  _ fucked _ .”

“You motherfucker -” Jesse starts to say, with more venom in his voice than Gabe’s ever heard. He’s cut off, though, with the dull sound of something hard connecting with Jesse’s skull. Jesse collapses at Gabe’s feet, his arm a deadweight across Gabe’s foot. 

“What did you do?” Gabe shouts. 

“I’m doing you a favor,” Jack says. Something collides with the side of Gabe’s head - the butt of a rifle, Gabe realizes in the moment before his vision goes black. 

※

Gabe wakes with a pounding headache. He opens his eyes with difficulty, his head feeling too heavy for his neck to support it. His mouth feels dry - too dry. He tries to swallow and finds a wad of fabric stuffed into his mouth. That sets off alarm bells. Gabe tries to reach up to pull it out, but he finds his arms are bound. He looks down, the movement making his head swim, to see his hands are bound to the wooden arms of a familiar chair. It takes him a moment to place it - it’s Akande’s chair, the one that looks like a throne. It’s as heavy as it looked; Gabe can’t budge it, and the ropes around his wrists and ankles are tied tight, digging into his skin. 

With a horrible sinking feeling, Gabe realizes they’re back in the Talon camp. 

He tries to look around, but his neck protests. The light is dim again - he can see a campfire flickering just beyond his line of sight. Night has fallen again. How long was he out?

_ Where is Jesse? _

Panic rises in Gabe’s throat, throbbing in time with the pulse in his head, making the pain acute. He can see Talon people milling through the camp, but nobody he recognizes. Gabe struggles against the ropes again, doing his best to rock the chair, desperate to do anything that might loosen his binding. 

“Oh, look who decided to rejoin us,” Jack’s voice says somewhere behind him. Gabe growls around the gag, thrashing against the ropes. “Oh no, you’re not going anywhere.”

Jack comes around the chair and stops in front of Gabe, arms folded over his chest, a bruise ringing one eye. 

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know?” Jack says. “You know how much trouble you’ve caused me with that stunt you pulled?”

Jack steps closer, leaning down over Gabe. 

“Of course you don’t, because you’ve been in your little fantasy world with your robot boyfriend. It’s time to wake up, princess!”

Gabe growls again but something behind him catches Jack’s attention. Jack watches for a moment, then a cruel smile spreads over his face as he switches his attention back to Gabe. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Jack says. He waves a couple of the Talon people over - Gabe hears their footsteps on the ground behind him, strangely amplified by the way his head is throbbing. All of a sudden, the Talon people surround Gabe and he’s lifted into the air, chair and all. It’s an incredibly disorienting sensation, a helpless sense of weightlessness as the Talon people carry Gabe towards the campfire. For one alarming moment, Gabe thinks they’re going to tip him into the flames, but they set him down just shy of the crackling fire. He’s too close - the heat coming off the fire already making him sweat. 

Once Gabe manages to blink the disorientation out of his eyes, his gaze falls on Jesse, similarly tied up and positioned on his knees on the ground across the fire from Gabe. Behind him, Akande lounges back in another chair, practically laughing already. He grins at Gabe and lifts a hand to pet a hand through Jesse’s hair. Jesse jerks away and Akande hits the back of his head, sending Jesse wobbling dangerously close to the fire. Gabe immediately struggles again, making noise around the gag. Jesse picks his head up to look. His face twists up in anguish but he doesn’t say anything even though he doesn’t have a gag stuffed in his mouth like Gabe. Jack saunters over. 

“Good, everyone’s here,” Jack says, pausing next to Gabe, hands on his hips. “Comfy?”

Gabe glares at Jack, wishing he could somehow light his hair on fire or  _ something _ . He hates feeling helpless, and he hates that Jack has the upper hand here. 

“Let him speak,” Akande says lazily. He’s enjoying the show. 

“I don’t know, I kind of like him like this,” Jack says, grinning down at Gabe. 

“Nobody wants to hear you monologue,” Jesse says. Akande hits him again. 

“Perhaps this one could use the gag,” Akande says. 

“He’s got a point, though,” Jack says. “Besides, I want to hear what Gabe has to say about all this.”

Jack reaches down to pull the gag from Gabe’s mouth, pulling the wad of cloth from Gabe’s mouth slowly. Gabe coughs, his mouth feeling too dry for comfort. 

“Enough, Jack,” Gabe says. “You’ve had your fun. Let us go.”

“Let you go? No, I don’t think so. I’m not finished yet.”

“Just - leave us alone. Why can’t you let us have this?”

Jack gets up close to Gabe’s face. “This isn’t why we came,” he says. “This isn’t why we’re here.”

“There are more important things going on here than your war games, Jack,” Gabe says, letting his voice drop, going more urgent. He has to get Jack to listen to reason. How has it gotten so far away from him? How did it ever get to this?

“Right, sure Gabe. Romance and all that.”

“I’m serious, Jack!” Gabe says. This is his only chance. He has to make Jack see what he sees. “It’s - listen to me. Jesse - he’s not like the others. He remembers things. He has his own desires and thoughts and to keep him in this place… It’s not right. I thought we could talk to our contacts at the park -”

“About?”

“Getting Jesse out of here.”

Jack blinks at Gabe for several moments, only the sound of the campfire crackling filling the air. 

“Are you kidding? You want to take him home?”

“Jack -”

“No, no - This place did a number on me my first time here, but. Wow. You’re really circling the sinkhole here,” Jack shakes his head in disbelief. He paces a few steps away then abruptly turns and comes back to Gabe, getting up close to his face again. “What do you want to do, exactly? Smuggle him out in your luggage?”

“That’s not -”

“No, that’s exactly what you’re saying. You’re saying you want to get him out of here!”

“Out,” Jesse says, lifting his head and looking directly across the campfire. His eyes blaze in the flickering light. Gabe swallows around the lump in his throat. “You think I want outta here? If out there’s got people like you out there, I don’t want nothing to do with it.”

Jack half-turns to look at Jesse, raising his eyebrows. 

“Ooh, you are a little screwy, aren’t you?” he says. Jesse spits. It falls in the fire, hissing as it evaporate. Jack smirks as he turns back to Gabe. “I could see why you would go for that.”

“This isn’t about me, Jack,” Gabe says, shaking his head even though it makes his vision swim. “This is about - it’s about doing what’s right.”

Jack stops, seeming to consider that. But the look that spreads of his face makes Gabe’s heart stop, the blood run cold in his veins. Jack steps close to Gabe again, his voice going low and sickly sweet in that dangerous way he has. 

“Yes, it is. You’re right, Gabe,” Jack says, unable or unwilling to keep the mockery out of his voice. “And it’s a tricky thing, isn’t it? Doing what’s right?”

Gabe shifts against his bindings again. He doesn’t like where this is going. Dread fills up his stomach, bile rising in the back of his throat. He tugs on the ropes but to no avail. Jack puts a hand on Gabe’s, digging his fingers into the back of his hand, pressing it down against the wood. 

“I’m going to help you, Gabe,” Jack says. “Just not in the way you want.”

Gabe watches, helpless, as Jack circles the fire towards Jesse. He grabs him by the throat and hauls him to his feet. Jesse gags, struggling against Jack’s grip. 

“As much as I would  _ love  _ for you to throw all this away, I can’t. This is our chance to make something of ourselves, Gabe, and you’re going to ruin it for us,” Jack says. Gabe can see his fingers digging into the flesh of Jesse’s throat, pressing in, making Jesse gasp for air. Jesse’s eyes roll in his head, finally settling on Gabe’s face. Jack shakes Jesse a little. “Do you think you’re the first sap to fall for one of these things?”

“He’s not like the others - He’s -”

“What?” Jack barks, a cruel laugh on the edge of his voice. “Special?” 

Jack lets go of Jesse’s throat, letting him drop into the dirt. Jesse just barely misses the edge of the fire. He writhes on the ground, coughing and gasping for oxygen. Jack looms over him, feet planted on either side of Jesse’s head. 

“Jack, don’t do this -” Gabe starts to say, panic rising with the bile. He can taste it on the back of his tongue. 

“Do what, exactly?”

“Whatever you’re about to do, it’s not necessary.”

“You don’t get to decide what’s necessary, Gabe,” Jack says, turning to face him again. The fire casts long shadows over Jack’s face. “ _ This _ is why Overwatch is mine. Your poor judgement has gotten us in trouble one too many times and I’m not about to let a  _ fucking robot _ ruin this for us. For me.”

“Don’t -”

Jack stoops and grabs Jesse up again, his hand easily fitting around Jesse’s throat. Gabe thrashes against his bindings, desperately wishing for the ropes to come loose, but it’s no use. 

“Come on. Prove to me you’re a real boy,” Jack says, face mere millimeters away from Jesse’s face. Jesse spits at him, making Jack jerk backwards and drop Jesse again. 

“You disgust me,” Jesse snarls. Jack pulls a handkerchief out of his shirt pocket and very slowly, deliberately wipes the spit off his face. 

“Oh,  _ darling _ , I’m just getting started,” Jack says. He tucks the handkerchief back into his pocket and moves away, just out of the circle of light around the fire. Gabe tries to catch Jesse’s eye, shifting in his seat, the ropes biting into his skin. Jesse lifts his head to look across the campfire. His eyes are hollow. 

_ I’m sorry _ , Gabe mouths, wishing he could say it out loud. 

Jack steps back into the light. In his hand, he has a massive knife. The orange light of the fire glints off the jagged blade. Gabe’s panic crests. 

“Don’t touch him!” he says. Jack turns the knife over in his hands, meandering slowly back to Jesse. 

“I share the blame. I pushed you too hard, I realize that now. You have a poetic soul, Gabe,” Jack says. “But it’s time for a fucking wake up call.”

Jack hauls Jesse up again. Miraculously, Jesse has somehow managed to slip the ropes that bound his wrists behind his back. He throws a punch that sends Jack staggering back a couple of steps. Akande rises up out of his chair and grabs Jesse by the scruff before he gets too far. Jesse struggles, but Akande’s grip is too tight. Jack regains his balance with a dark look. 

“Hold him,” Jack bites out. His knuckles are white from how hard he grips the knife. He half-turns towards Gabe. “It’s time for a more visceral demonstration.”

Jack turns back to Jesse, who’s still struggling in Akande’s grip, his head yanked back by the hair, his eyes wild. Jack adjusts his grip then plunges it into Jesse’s stomach. Jesse screams. 

“God damn you!” Gabe cries out. He strains against the ropes binding him to the chair - he can feel his joints practically separating with the effort. He doesn’t want to look, he can’t bear to look - 

Someone’s hands force Gabe’s head forward. He watches in helpless horror as Jack drags the knife up Jesse’s stomach. Jesse screams again. Jack drops the knife and uses both hands to spread open the sides of the wound, exposing the bloody network of metal parts under the fleshy exterior. 

“Look!” Jack sing songs. He lets his voice drop into a growl. “Look, Gabe! You have to look!”

Jesse looks down at Jack’s hands, his eyes on the gory mess of his own eviscerated abdomen. His knees give out and Akande lets him go, letting him sink to his knees as he fights for his consciousness. Jack watches, looking almost amused at the spectacle. 

“There’s beauty in this world,” Jesse says, each word a struggle to get out, but Gabe can still hear the curse in his voice. “But people like you keep spreading over it like a stain.”

Jack crouched down in front of Jesse. 

“Your world was built for me, and for people like me,” Jack says. “Not for you.”

“Then someone’s gotta burn it clean,” Jesse says. He rises up, a flash of something in his hand - the knife, Gabe realizes. Jesse swings it through the air and slashes Jack’s cheek. Jack falls back into the dirt, surprised. Jesse scrambles away. 

“Run, Jesse,” Gabe yells. He wants nothing more than for Jesse to get the hell away from here, from Jack, even if it means he might never see Jesse again. “RUN!”

Jesse stumbles away from the fire, slashing wildly at any Talon people who try to stop him. Gabe tries to keep his eyes on Jesse for as long as possible, hoping, beyond reason, that Jesse makes it out of there alive. Jesse keeps going, nobody able to stop him as he makes a beeline for the trees. When he can’t see Jesse any longer, Gabe slumps in his chair, defeated, an acute sense of loss mingling with his rage. 

Jack picks himself up out of the dirt, blood trickling down his cheek from the knife wound. He grins in spite of it. The blood stains his teeth. 

“Do you get it yet, Gabe?” he asks. “Do you see how powerful this place is? You see what it’s done for us - imagine what it can do for Overwatch.”

※

The sun rises on the Talon camp. It’s still and quiet, not a soul stirring. Gabe sits by the dying campfire, staring into the trees where he lost sight of Jesse the night before. At some point last night, Jack had untied him, embraced him, reassured Gabe that this was all for the better - that it hurts now, but it’ll make him stronger. Make both of them stronger. Jack had given him a bottle of liquor and turned in for the night. 

Gabe didn’t sleep. He left the bottle untouched. 

Now, sitting next to the campfire, Gabe carefully polishes the knife that Jack had used to eviscerate Jesse. His hands move slowly, deliberately, getting every speck of blood off the handle, shining the blade until it gleams in the early morning sun. 

At his feet, all around him, the bodies of every member of Talon that had been in the camp lie bloodied, in pieces and parts, limbs scattered haphazardly across the campsite. No one had been spared. 

As the sun rises higher in the sky, Jack finally emerges from his tent, yawning and stretching. He takes a few steps toward the campfire then stops in his tracks, finally registering the bloodbath at his feet. Slowly, his eyes find Gabe sitting calmly by the campfire. 

“Gabe?” Jack asks, the question clear in his voice. Gabe looks up and waves at him with the knife. 

“Morning,” Gabe says. Jack picks his way around one of the bodies, taking a few steps closer to Gabe, then stopping again. Gabe goes back to polishing the knife. 

“Gabe,” Jack says again. “What happened here?”

“Oh, this?” Gabe gestures negligently with the knife at the dismembered bodies around him. “I thought you’d be into it.”

“ _ You  _ did this?” Jack asks, incredulous. 

“Mm. I had a lot to think about, you were right,” Gabe says. He sets the knife down across his lap and leans back in his chair, the same one he had been bound to the night before, the one that had belonged to Akande before Gabe put the knife through his neck. “But I think I’ve gotten to a good place.”

“Okay,” Jack says slowly, uncertainly. 

“I used to think this place was all about catering to your basest instincts. But now I understand it doesn’t cater to your lowest self, it reveals your deepest self. It shows you who you really are.”

“But this…” Jack starts to say, then trails off. 

“What?” Gabe asks. He keeps his voice calm, tilting his head back to look at Jack. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”


	10. Delos Destinations, Inc.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe and Jack work to secure the Delos contract.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! We've got a little change of scenery this week... Hope you enjoy this week's installment! 
> 
> As usual, I love hearing your thoughts and reactions - either here or on [tumblr](wictorwictor.tumblr.com) or [twitter](twitter.com/smarshtastic)! I've really enjoyed seeing your comments from week to week ♥

Gabe sets the glass down on the coaster, the ice clinking softly against the crystal. He lifts his hand to fiddle with the cufflink at his left wrist. The train is whisper quiet even as fast as it’s going; whatever is outside the train flies by in a dark blur so that Gabe can’t make out anything beyond the windows. He twists the cufflink deftly between his thumb and forefinger. He’s not nervous - he’s done this plenty of times before. 

He just wants to get it over with. 

Sitting across from Gabe, Jack waves the attendant down again, gesturing to his empty glass. 

“Is that a good idea?” Gabe asks, nodding to the glass. Jack shrugs. 

“They’re offering. It’d be rude not to accept their hospitality,” Jack says. 

“Just keep your wits about you.”

“Please. I can hold my liquor,” Jack sniffs. He smiles up at the pretty, young attendant who refills his glass. His gaze lingers on her backside as she moves down the car. “Besides, I’m not the one we should be worried about blowing this whole thing up.”

“Funny,” Gabe says. Jack leans forward in his seat, pointing with the freshly filled glass. 

“I mean it, Gabe. This is it.”

“I know, we’ve already been through this.”

“Then just let me do the talking, alright?”

“I  _ know _ , Jack.”

The train pulls smoothly into the station and Jack and Gabe stand, rebuttoning their suit jackets before they step out onto the platform. A small blonde woman with her hair pulled back into a ponytail is waiting for them as they step off the train. She’s wearing a black turtleneck with a white blazer that almost suggests a lab coat, with pumps that belie their air of sensibility by looking extremely expensive. She’s smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes - or, rather, there’s a certain tightness around her eyes that makes her look distinctly  _ human _ in a way that the attendant on the train did not. 

“Mr. Morrison, Mr. Reyes,” she says, a trace of what sounds like a German accent in her voice. “Welcome to Westworld.”

“We’re here to see Dr. Ziegler,” Jack says, stepping ahead of Gabe. He looks past the blonde woman without really seeing her, as if he’s expecting to see someone else. 

“Please, call me Angela,” the woman says coolly. Without skipping a beat, Jack extends his hand. 

“Then you can call me Jack. Thank you for having us,” he says. After a moment, Angela takes his hand and shakes it. Gabe holds his hand out. 

“Gabriel,” he says as she shakes his hand. 

“A pleasure,” Angela says. She turns on her heel and starts walking. Jack exchanges a look with Gabe and then follows, taking long strides to catch up with her. Gabe follows a step behind, listening and watching. “We appreciate you both taking the trip out to see us. We know it’s a bit unconventional, but…”

“If we’re going to be partners, it’s the least we can do,” Jack says as they come to a set of elevators. Angela pauses and gives Jack a tight smile. 

“Indeed,” she says. She hits a button and the elevator doors slide open soundlessly. She gestures for Gabe and Jack to get in ahead of her. “It’s important to our founder that we protect our trade secrets. She won’t allow anything to leave the campus, and it’s highly unusual to even let anyone behind the curtain, so to speak. I’ll admit, I’m a bit surprised she’s agreed to this meeting in the first place.”

“Well we certainly appreciate it,” Jack says as the elevator whisks them upwards. There’s no level indicators on the console, and Gabe can’t gauge how fast they’re moving. He wonders how deep underground the train was.

Angela inclines her head slightly. The elevator comes to a stop and the doors slide open. This time Angela walks ahead of them, leading them down a hall that opens up into an atrium of sorts. The far wall is taken up by an enormous screen or projection, running the Westworld ad B-roll on loop. The camera pans down the main street of Sweetwater and Gabe feels a strange tug in his chest that he swallows down. It all still feels too fresh. He looks back at Angela instead. She gives him a knowing look. 

“I understand that you’ve visited the park before,” Angela says smoothly, leading them around the far wall. Jack’s step falters, but he recovers before Angela goes on. 

“That’s right,” Jack says. “A little bit of first hand product testing, if you will. We wanted to know exactly what we were getting into.”

“Of course,” Angela says. “You’re not the first potential partner who helped themselves to a sample.”

Gabe glances at Jack’s face, but his genial smile is frozen on his lips. Gabe can’t help but feel a little twinge of satisfaction at seeing Jack slightly wrong-footed. 

Angela shows them into a glass-walled conference room with an enormous dark wood table dominating the space. She sits at the head of the table, leaning back in her seat and crossing one leg over the other, letting her hands rest in her lap. Jack and Gabe sit down on either side of her. 

“So,” she says, eyes bright. “How did you find the park?”

“It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced,” Gabe says truthfully. He keeps his expression smooth but very purposefully doesn’t look at Jack. Angela smiles a little wider. 

“It’s incredible,” Jack adds. “It’s one of those things where you think you know what to expect, but, once you’re there, it turns all of your expectations on its head.”

“Then we’re doing our job,” Angela says. “As I’m sure you already know, I’m head of Quality Assurance here. It’s my job to ensure our guests have a top of the line experience, whatever that might mean to our individual clients. Part of the success of Westworld is how intimately we’ve come to know our guests. It enables us to tailor their experiences to provide exactly what they need.”

“There’s nothing else like it in the market,” Jack says. “The technology you’ve developed -”

“It’s certainly a feat of innovation,” Angela says, speaking over Jack in that firm but gentle manner that is becoming quickly familiar to Gabe. “Which brings us to why you’re here.”

Jack leans slightly forward in his seat - this is his favorite part, his natural environment; the business pitch. 

“Overwatch is a security firm, as you’re well aware. The biggest private security firm in the world,” Jack says with practiced ease. “But that doesn’t mean anything if we don’t deliver.”

“But that’s not why you’re here,” Angela says. Jack blinks, his mouth shutting abruptly. 

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he says. 

“You’re not here for our security,” she says. “Or at least - that’s not the whole story. You want a piece of our tech.”

“A  _ mutually beneficial _ partnership,” Jack says. “We’re not looking to rob you blind and leave you high and dry -”

“Of course not,” Angela says. “It’s bad for business.”

“So are robots running rogue,” Gabe says. 

Angela turns her head to look at Gabe, as if she’s seeing him for the first time. She considers him coolly, and Gabe returns her look with an even expression of his own. He might be imagining it, but it looks like the corner of her mouth turns up. “Rumors. Unfounded ones, at that.”

“Still. Even rumors are bad for business, when you’ve got such a small market.”

“Indeed,” she says. “Perhaps a tour of the facility is in order, now that we all understand where the cards lie.”

Angela gets up smoothly and leads them back out of the conference room. Gabe and Jack follow in her wake. She pauses at a wall console and hits a few buttons. A panel slides open and Angela reaches inside to withdraw two wristbands. She holds them out. 

“Security clearance,” she says, taking Gabe’s left wrist in her hand to snap the wristband into place, and then does the same for Jack. Jack holds his wrist up to his face, inspecting the thin plastic. Gabe notices she doesn’t have a plastic wristband around her wrist, but rather some kind of smart watch with a smooth black face set on a crisp white band. “It’s coded to your DNA, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Our DNA?” Gabe asks. He slides his finger between the plastic band and his skin. 

“You sampled our wares on your previous visit,” Angela points out. “DNA collection is disclaimed in the paperwork guests complete before their entry into the park.”

“A mutually beneficial partnership, remember?” Jack says, his tone skewing more or less playful. “You don’t have to worry about us.”

Angela apparently isn’t swayed by his jocularity.

“This way,” she says. “I’ll take you down to Behavior.”

Angela leads them to another elevator, down (or is it up? Gabe can’t be certain) an indeterminate number of stories, and into an enormous maze of a floor lined with many glass-walled rooms. The effect is almost dizzying; the glass walls make Gabe feel like he’s in some kind of kaleidoscopic labyrinth, with glimpses into incomplete scenes. A bartender uncorks a bottle and pours a drink into a glass for a technician holding a tablet; a woman in a corset and bloomers saunters back and forth, hands on her hips; a trio of men appear to be engaged in a card game when one suddenly pulls a gun on the others, though they freeze in place as a technician types furiously on their tablet. 

“Welcome to Behavior,” Angela says. She starts walking down what seems like a central path between the many rooms. “This is where we refine our hosts’ personalities. Each host is fully programmable, with over 200 individual traits that can be adjusted on a continuum, resulting in almost infinite subtle variations on personality types. Hosts are brought in for regular tuning and updates. We’re always making incremental improvements.”

“What about any physical damages?” Jack asks, pausing to peer into another room, where a host appears to be slowly sharpening a knife. An armed guard stands at the door while a technician observes the host. 

“Another floor,” Angela says. “Behavior only concerns themselves with what goes on in the host’s processors. Livestock Management - another floor - takes care of the physical maintenance.”

“And for your hosts who step out of line?” Gabe asks. Angela glances at him sideways, a wry smile tugging on her lips. 

“They come here too,” she says. “As you can imagine, a large part of Behavior’s job is to ensure the hosts function as intended.”

Angela comes to another room which looks more like an exam room than some of the others they had passed. Inside, two technicians are standing over a host that seems to be malfunctioning. His movements are jerky, robotic in a way that looks startlingly out of place among the other hosts. Angela taps a code into the console at the door, which slides open to allow Angela, Gabe and Jack to step inside. The shorter of the two technicians looks up as they come in. The technician straightens her round glasses as they come in. She’s short, plump, and radiates a pleasant, inquisitive sort of energy. 

“Dr. Ziegler,” she says, surprised. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“Change of plans, Mei-Ling,” Angela says. “This is Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes from Overwatch, one of the security firms we are considering.”

Jack steps forward, extending his hand. Mei-Ling shakes his hand enthusiastically. The other technician doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe care. She continues typing on her tablet. It must be a command for the malfunctioning host; its movements cease and its body relaxes into a resting position in its seat. 

“I’m Mei-Ling Zhou, but you can call me Mei. Welcome to Behavior,” she says, stepping in Gabe’s line of sight to shake Gabe’s hand too. She seems startlingly young, too, to be working at a place like this. Still, judging from her smile and bright enthusiasm, Mei seems happy to be here. Angela clears her throat. 

“Satya,” Angela says, irritation coming into her voice. The woman turns, finally, the annoyance at being interrupted clear on her face. “Satya Vaswani, head of Behavior.”

Satya inclines her head but makes no move to shake either Gabe or Jack’s hands. She’s dressed sharply, her shirt perfectly pressed, the sleeves rolled up just so, her trousers tailored so the hem brushes the top of her sensible shoes. Her hair is tied back in a somewhat severe bun, lengthening her neck and giving her a sort of regal air. To Gabe, she seems untouchable. She returns to her tablet, her concentration returning with startling ease. Angela doesn’t say anything but the annoyance is clear in her own expression. Gabe makes a mental note for later - if there’s tension between QA and Behavior, it might explain some of the issues he’s heard Jack talk about while they prepped for this venture. 

“We’re busy here,” Satya says, gesturing to the host she and Mei are working on. Gabe finally gets a good look at it, and realizes, jarringly, that he recognizes the host in question. 

“He keeps attempting to hurt his brother,” Mei says by way of explanation. “Even when his narrative has run its course.”

Hanzo Shimada sits fully naked, like many of the other hosts Gabe had seen as he walked past the exam rooms on this floor. His hands rest on his thighs and he stares straight ahead, his eyes vacant and unseeing. 

A flash of memory -  _ Hanzo’s contorted face looming over him, the arrow sinking into the wood beside Gabe’s ear as Hanzo falls forward, bleeding from a gunshot to the back. Jesse, pulling the arrow from his chest, backlit by the light of the balcony pouring into the dojo  _ -

“He looks familiar,” Jack says, his voice drawing Gabe back to the present. Gabe shakes it off as Jack steps closer, leaning down to try to catch Hanzo’s eye. He waves his fingers in Hanzo’s face but the host doesn’t blink or make any indication that he is conscious. Satya watches Jack with what might be either distaste or disapproval, or both, before she goes back to her tablet. 

“He’s in debugging mode,” Satya says. “He won’t respond unless you know the commands.”

“Huh,” Jack says, leaning back. “I’ve definitely seen this one before.”

“All of our hosts are completely unique,” Mei says. Her enthusiasm is an obvious reflection of the pride she takes in her work; it’s almost endearing. “Every host is handcrafted -”

“His directive is too specific,” Satya says, speaking over Mei, typing something on her tablet without looking up. Mei closes her mouth, looking almost chastened. The way she looks up at Satya is one of unmistakable admiration and respect. “The recent updates interfere with the limiting protocols we already had in place -”

“You rolled out the update already?” Angela interrupts, annoyance creeping into her voice. Satya glances up without missing a keystroke. 

“We have a schedule to keep,” Satya says. “ _ Your _ schedule, I might add, which limits the amount of testing we’re able to complete before deployment”

Angela presses her mouth into a line, clearly displeased. 

“Bug in the system?” Gabe asks, keeping his tone light. 

“It’s an extremely intricate program,” Satya says. “Perfection takes time, and work.”

“Roll back the update,” Angela says. Mei looks between Angela and Satya. 

“We can’t,” Mei says, tentatively. “The doctor -”

“It’s time to retire this one anyway,” Satya interrupts. Mei’s head swings quickly around to look at Satya. Gabe gets the impression that Satya is deflecting, steering the conversation away from the issue of the bugged update. “Before he becomes a greater danger.”

“Retire?” Jack asks, curious. Satya glances at Jack. 

“Occasionally, older or malfunctioning hosts are removed from circulation and put into Cold Storage,” Satya says. “This one has been particularly difficult - more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Occasionally?” Jack echoes. 

“Yes,  _ occasionally _ . As you insinuated earlier, hosts running amok is bad for business,” Angela says. “Of course, if the  _ update  _ itself - rather than the hardware - is flawed -”

“The update is not the issue here,” Satya says flatly. Angela opens her mouth to protest, but the watch on her wrist chimes. She lifts her arm to look at the screen, then makes a face. She drops her arm back at her side and looks back to Gabe and Jack. 

“In the interest of our impending partnership, perhaps you’d like to observe the decommissioning process? There are other matters I have to attend to.”

Gabe raises an eyebrow. Jack is already eagerly accepting the invitation, his curiosity piqued by the prospect. Gabe is more interested in what’s so important that it would draw Angela’s attention away from Gabe and Jack - she’s made a point of emphasizing that they must be watched, escorted through the facilities. Given Delos made such a big deal of their visit, at least outwardly, Gabe guesses that the director herself had paged Angela. 

Angela takes her leave, the door sliding smoothly shut behind her, effectively blocking out the clicking sound of her heels on the tiled floor as she walks briskly away. Satya finally sets her tablet aside on a workbench, but still makes no move to shake either Gabe or Jack’s hands. Instead, she goes to a cabinet along the inner wall and pulls out a tray with instruments that she then places on a cart. Her movements are deliberate, as if everything she does is a careful calculation in efficiency. 

In stark contrast, Mei wrings her hands, the distress clear in the gesture. She gives Gabe and Jack a slightly mournful look. 

“I don’t like this part,” she says. 

“What part?” Jack asks. 

“You’ll see. It just feels so… brutal,” Mei says. Satya sits primly on a stool in front of Hanzo, adjusting the seat one handedly. 

“You shouldn’t get attached to them, Mei-Ling,” Satya says. She draws the cart with the tray of instruments closer, taking a moment to get it just right. She picks up a pair of rubber gloves and tugs them on. “It’s easy to fall for the illusion, to be taken in by their mimicry. But they’re just machines. Extraordinary machines, but machines nonetheless.”

“I know that,” Mei says, more defensively than she probably means to, but she relents, the scientist in her taking over. She steps closer as Satya picks up what looks like some kind of wireless dremel. Satya hits a button on the side of the drill. The long, thin bit whirs to life. 

“Hanzo, tilt your head back,” Satya says. Placidly, Hanzo obeys. Mei steps behind him and holds his head in place. Satya scoots her stool forward between Hanzo’s knees. Slowly, carefully, she slides the drill bit up into Hanzo’s nostril. 

Gabe has to rein in his shock. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t  _ this _ \- it seems so strangely barbaric compared to the slick veneer of the rest of the Behavior facility. 

A thick trickle of blood oozes out of Hanzo’s nose along the drill bit. Satya moves her hand away before the blood touches her gloved hand. As the drill slides out of Hanzo’s nose, Gabe watches his eyes go dull, more vacant than before. Almost… lifeless. Hanzo lets out a sigh as Satya sets the drill back down on the tray. Mei lets go of his head. 

“Call Aleksandra,” Satya says as she snaps off her gloves. “Perhaps Angela’s guests will want to accompany her to Cold Storage.”

“Oh - is that… Are they allowed?” Mei asks, her eyes sliding to look at Gabe and Jack again. Jack holds up the arm with the plastic band around his wrist. 

“We either are or we aren’t, but we’ve got some kind of security clearance,” Jack says. 

“Aleksandra can verify their access,” Satya says. She stands up, picking her tablet off the workbench. She looks at Gabe and Jack, but her eyes seem to slide away from meeting their own. “I hope you find the rest of your visit stimulating.”

With a nod of her head, Satya lets herself out of the exam room. Gabe watches her through the glass walls as she walks down the hall, her back straight, each step as deliberate as the rest of her movements. Mei lets her breath out. 

“She doesn’t really like new people,” Mei says, almost as if she’s apologizing for Satya. The way she says it, too, sounds as if she’s used to making excuses for her boss. Mei picks up her own tablet again and starts typing one-handedly. “I actually think she prefers the company of the hosts, when it comes down to it. For all their complexities, they’re much simpler than humans.”

“I get that,” Jack says. It almost sounds sincere. Gabe tries to not let that get under his skin. 

“What’s down in Cold Storage?” Gabe asks. 

“Oh - that’s where we put the decommissioned hosts,” Mei says. “It’s a waste to incinerate them, really - all the technology is very expensive, you know - and the director likes to keep them around for testing and record keeping. The materials that make up the hosts’ bodies require regulated temperatures - they don’t decompose but, like humans, they keep best within a specific temperature band.”

“Isn’t that a liability? To keep them around?” Jack asks, raising his eyebrows. Gabe was wondering the same thing. Mei taps Hanzo on the shoulder. He doesn’t seem to register Mei’s touch - he doesn’t even blink. 

“The procedure you witnessed was much like a lobotomy. He’s basically a walking vegetable,” she says. “And - well. You’ll see the basement. Aleksandra will be right up.”

Aleksandra appears a moment later. Gabe isn’t sure what he was expecting, but he certainly wasn’t expecting this massive muscular woman; she’s at least a couple inches taller than both him and Jack, and maybe twice as broad. Her hair is cropped short, the side shaved and the top kept long like Gabe’s own, but dyed a shockingly bright pink. The color doesn’t undermine her intimidating presence, though; the scar over her right eye suggests that the muscles that are practically bursting through her well-tailored suit are not for show. Gabe instantly feels a certain level of respect for her. Aleksandra looks at Gabe and Jack when she steps into the exam room. Her nose crinkles slightly. 

“Why are they here?” she asks in a thick Russian accent. 

“Dr. Ziegler had other matters to attend to,” Mei says with a shrug. “We thought maybe you’d show them to the basement, while you bring Hanzo here to Cold Storage. As part of the tour.”

Aleksandra purses her lips. Jack steps towards her, extending his hand. 

“Jack Morrison, Overwatch,” he says. Aleksandra doesn’t scoff, but it’s a near thing. 

“I know who you are,” she says. She reaches out, but instead of shaking his hand, she taps the plastic band around his wrist. “I gave you clearance. Aleksandra Zaryanova, head of security.”

“Ah, of course,” Jack says, letting his hand fall back at his side. “We appreciate you having us here.” 

“It was not my decision,” Aleksandra says. Gabe is struck by the sudden thought that maybe Delos’s founder didn’t consult with her own head of security before deciding to bring in Overwatch - that would certainly complicate matters. He glances at Jack, wondering if he’s had the same thought, hoping that neither of them say something that might make them lose Aleksandra’s respect - and the contract. 

“We ought to get Hanzo down to pasture,” Mei pipes up. “We have a schedule to keep.”

“Indeed,” Aleksandra says. She jerks her head to the door. “Let’s go.”

Mei types something into her tablet and Hanzo rises to his feet. Aleksandra watches him warily, with something like distaste in her expression. She holds the door open, allowing Hanzo to pass through ahead of her, Mei close behind. As Mei moves past him, Gabe gets a look at the screen on the tablet; she seems to be steering him with the controls on one side of the screen. The other side of the screen is taken up by what looks like some kind of personnel profile - or, in this case, a character profile. Gabe wonders what sorts of things are included in such dossiers. He makes a mental note to ask to see one later. 

They reach the elevator. Aleksandra lets them step in ahead of her before she positions herself into the corner farthest from Hanzo. She never takes her eyes off the host. The elevator begins to descend. 

“You don’t seem too fond of the hosts,” Gabe says after a moment, taking the risk of satisfying his curiosity. Aleksandra’s eyes flick over at Gabe briefly. 

“They’re too smart for their own good,” she says. “There’s no need to make them so smart.”

“It’s the only way our guests get a complex, complete experience,” Mei says, frowning. 

“Our guests want to fight and fuck,” Aleksandra says. “The hosts don’t need any special programming beyond that.”

“It enriches the experience - the possibilities are endless, almost unpredictable, it keeps our guests guessing -”

“Unpredictable,” Aleksandra repeats, not bothering to temper the disdain in her tone. “That is the problem.”

“You have controls in place,” Jack puts in. Mei bobs her head. 

“Yes! Exactly - exactly right. The safety of our guests is the most important.”

Aleksandra scoffs. “Until the controls are not enough, and then what?”

“A robot uprising?” Gabe suggests. Aleksandra turns her gaze on Gabe, unamused. 

“It’s not a joking matter. There are two thousand active hosts in circulation. More in the basement, and more in development. What happens if the controls break? Or we make them too smart? It’s an unnecessary risk.”

“Well, that’s why we’re here,” Jack says, his tone skewing almost cavalier. “Our security is the best in the world.”

“Maybe,” Aleksandra says. The doors ping open and Gabe has to take a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dim light of the basement. It’s cool and damp down here, with that particular smell of stale water and mold from a prior flood. As his eyes adjust, Gabe gets a better idea of how enormous this basement is - it stretches so far back from the elevator that Gabe can’t see where it ends. 

And then he sees the bodies. 

At first, they look like mannequins - like something out of one of those old  _ Twilight Zone  _ episodes - rows and rows of motionless bodies, made pale by the dim light from the lights set into the floor. But, as they get closer, Gabe realizes that he’s not seeing mannequins so much as  _ bodies _ . Bodies of all different sizes, shapes, and genders. They’re standing motionless, silent, their eyes open and staring, vacant. 

A chill runs down Gabe’s spine. He finds himself wishing, bizarrely, for some kind of weapon. Next to him, Jack’s fingers flex at his hip. It strangely makes Gabe feel a little better knowing Jack feels as unsettled as he does. 

“Okay, Mr. Shimada,” Mei is saying. She leads Hanzo between the bodies, taking them deeper into the thicket of decommissioned hosts and seemingly unaware of the discomfort of her companions. She stops Hanzo seemingly at random, in an empty space between two other male hosts. Hanzo stands there as Mei types on her tablet. She looks up at him and gives him a mournful little smile. “Sweet dreams.”

With a final tap on the screen, the light in Hanzo’s eyes extinguishes completely. 

※

Back up on the main floors, Angela is waiting for them when the elevator pings open. She looks cool and calm, whatever urgent matter having pulled her away earlier having been resolved - or maybe or at least pushed aside enough to be forgotten. 

“How was your visit to Cold Storage?” she asks. 

“It’s sad to see them all down there,” Mei says, shaking her head. Aleksandra makes a disgusted noise that she doesn’t attempt to conceal. 

“Sad is a strange choice of words,” she says. Angela looks amused by Aleksandra’s disdain. 

“Perhaps we should make a visit to the control center, if that would make you feel better, Aleksandra?” Angela asks. She half-turns to address Gabe and Jack. “You’ll get a first-hand look at our current security protocols. I’m sure Aleksandra would be interested to hear your perspective on how we might do better, and how we might incorporate your company’s services.”

“We’d love to,” Jack says. More or less trapped into providing a tour of her own domain, Aleksandra inclines her head, even though the displeasure still reads clearly on her face. Gabe can’t help but wonder how much Aleksandra had been told about Overwatch’s potential involvement - and whether or not Aleksandra had been consulted about the matter at all. They should tread carefully; they’ll need Aleksandra on their side if they’re actually going to do anything productive with Delos. 

“Of course. Right this way.”

“I should be getting back,” Mei says, gesturing vaguely behind her. Angela turns to look at her, as if surprised she’s still there. 

“Let Satya know we have an appointment with the director later,” Angela says. “I’ve sent the details to her tablet.”

Mei bristles slightly - at being treated like a secretary, maybe - but she nods. She gives Gabe and Jack a little wave as she trots down the glass-walled hallway of Behavior. Her reflection doubles, triples, and divides into fractal reflections of herself the further away she gets. Gabe watches her go until he’s not sure which version of Mei he’s actually looking at. 

“To the control room, then,” Angela says, her tone pleasant. 

They four of them take the elevator again, this time apparently travelling up a few floors. Though he normally has a knack for parsing the lay of the land, Gabe is having a hard time putting together the layout of this place; it’s an enormous facility, but he hasn’t noticed any windows, suggesting that it is, at least partially, situated underground. There’s no telling exactly how  _ much _ of it is underground, but judging from the amount of time they spend in the elevator, it’s significant. The facility must go very deep. 

Nobody says anything in the confines of the elevator. Aleksandra appears to be pouting, or something close to it. Angela leans against the wall in the corner, her arms folded over her chest, her eyes trained on the points of her shoes. Jack clears his throat. He always found the silence uncomfortable. The elevator doors slide open again, opening out into a narrow white hallway that ends in a single door. 

“The heart of our operation,” Angela says. She walks ahead of them, her heels clicking on the pristine white tile. Aleksandra somehow gets herself in front of Gabe and Jack, not quite shoving them aside, but certainly annoyed with Angela’s presumptuousness. Aleksandra gets to the door first and waves her wrist at a panel next to the door. A light on the panel flashes green. She steps in ahead of Angela without waiting for her, without looking back. Angela gestures into the room, unperturbed. “This way, gentlemen.”

Gabe steps into the room with Jack. The door closes behind them with a heavy sound behind them, and, for the first time, Gabe feels an acute sense of claustrophobia. The feeling dissipates, however, when Gabe gets a look at the enormous control console that dominates the middle of the room; a miniaturized map of the entire park, rendered in exquisite detail, is projected up from the table. Several Delos employees sit at different positions around the map. As Gabe watches, one of them reaches out into the map and uses two fingers to zoom in on a section of the park. The gesture brings up a detail shot of Sweetwater, a view looking down the main street from the front of the hotel. Gabe leans forward without thinking, something clenching in his chest, wishing against odds he might see something -  _ someone _ \- he might recognize. 

“This is incredible,” Jack says appreciatively, stepping forward to get a good look at the map. 

“We can see every inch of the park,” Aleksandra says. She’s standing over it almost protectively, her arms folded over her broad chest. Jack glances back at her. 

“Every inch?” he repeats. 

“We’re not perverts,” Aleksandra says. 

“What Aleksandra means to say is that we don’t make a habit of spying on our guests,” Angela says. “As you already know, our guests sign extensive release forms before they enter the park. And - as a matter of safety - we monitor their movements. If we notice anything out of the ordinary on their biosensors, we can triangulate into their position and conduct a wellness check.”

“I’m sure that never gets abused,” Gabe says. Jack smirks and nods. 

“I can assure you that any of our employees who abuse the system are not given the opportunity to try again,” Angela says. 

“Access is highly restricted,” Aleksandra says. 

“Sure, but you’ve got some of the best and brightest here,” Jack says. “I’m sure more than a few of them could figure out how to bypass your restrictions.”

“And I’m sure you have people in your own organization who could do the same for Overwatch’s systems,” Angela says smoothly. “There are bugs in every system.”

“Some are more problematic than others,” Gabe says. 

“Indeed,” Angela says. 

“It’s a clever idea, though,” Jack says, gesturing at the map. “Eye in the sky and all that. Is that all you look out for, though - biosensor abnormalities?”

“No,” Aleksandra says. “We keep track of all the active hosts and active narratives. As guests enter the park and engage with the stories, we know where to look.”

“Do all guests get involved with a story?” Gabe asks, suddenly curious. 

“Of course,” Angela says. “What else would they do in the park?”

Gabe half-turns away from the map to look at her. “I just mean - surely there’s certain guests who just want to sit at the brothel and have a couple of drinks.”

Aleksandra snorts. Angela shoots her what might as well be a dirty look even though it looks like she’s trying to maintain an even expression. 

“Guests come here for an experience like nothing they can get in the real world,” Angela says. “If they wanted to sit in a whorehouse and drink themselves stupid, there are much less expensive places to do so.”

Aleksandra sniffs but doesn’t say anything else. Jack circles the map slowly. 

“So you do have a defined border,” he says. 

“You could say that,” Angela says. 

“What happens if someone strays too far?”

“It’s never been an issue,” Angela says. Jack looks back up at her, his face illuminated from the light of the map below his chin. It makes the scar along his cheek stand out silvery against his skin. 

“We signed the NDA, Angela,” he says. “You can be straight with me.”

“We haven’t signed any contracts yet.”

“But we’re going to,” Jack says with confidence. She purses her lips, considering.

“Guests are escorted back to the nearest settlement,” Angela says. 

“And hosts?” Gabe asks. Angela glances at him. 

“Rigged to explode,” she says. “To protect the IP, of course.”

※

After they leave the security center, Angela brings them back to another conference room to meet with the founder. A host brings them coffee and pastries. 

They wait. And wait. And wait. The coffee goes cold. Jack finishes off the last of the pastries. Angela’s face grows tighter and stormier as more time passes. 

Finally, she stands abruptly. 

“Excuse me a moment,” she says. Gabe watches her walk out, her heels clicking sharply with each step. He looks back at Jack. 

“Should we be worried?” Gabe asks. Jack shrugs and leans back in his seat. 

“It’s probably just a tactic,” he says. “You know how it is.”

“This isn’t like our usual negotiations.”

“No, it’s not,” Jack agrees. He rubs his palms down the tops of his thighs. “I think we’re close, though.”

“How do you figure?”

“Can’t you tell? They’re desperate,” Jack says. Gabe raises a skeptical eyebrow. 

“They’re cagey, sure, but they don’t read  _ desperate _ to me,” Gabe says. Jack gives him a look. 

“We’re here, aren’t we? Delos is notoriously close-lipped. No outsiders. And yet, here we are.”

“Maybe,” Gabe says. He’s learned to be the skeptic to Jack’s confidence, even if it annoys Jack to no end. But, in this case in particular, Gabe can’t help but keep both eyes wide open. 

Several minutes later, Angela reappears in the doorway of the conference room. Her cheeks are flushed but her voice is as calm as ever. 

“Slight change of plans, gentlemen” she says. Gabe wonders if he can detect annoyance in her voice, or if he’s imagining it. “Follow me.”

Gabe and Jack follow Angela to an elevator which takes them down to a floor which Gabe mistakes, at first, for Behavior. When they step out of the elevator, though, Gabe realizes the floor is almost completely empty, despite being nearly as large as the other Behavior floor. Angela walks ahead of them between glass walls, her reflection doubled on either side and her heels echoing against the hard surfaces. It’s eerily quiet, the floor apparently entirely empty but for the three of them. Angela leads them back to an exam room like the one they saw on the other floor. Through the glass walls, Gabe sees a tall figure sitting in a chair with their back to them, cropped red hair barely brushing the starched black collar that peeks over a white coat. In front of the seated figure, a host walks back and forth in a tight path, her long, dancer-like legs sweeping gracefully through the air. As they get closer, Gabe sees the snowy white rabbits hopping around her feet. Each of the host’s steps just barely misses the rabbits, which are seemingly unafraid of the host’s movements. The host turns her head, her long black ponytail falling over her shoulder. She locks eyes with Gabe and stops moving. 

Lacroix. Widowmaker. 

Gabe swallows around the lump in his throat and forces himself to keep walking, to pretend like he doesn’t recognize her. But her eyes remain locked on him, her body inhumanly motionless. 

Angela lifts her hand and raps sharply on the glass door to the exam room. 

“I’m working.”

“We had an  _ appointment _ ,” Angela says petulantly as she pushes open the door and steps into the exam room. The seated figure half-turns to look over their shoulder at Angela. Gabe tears his eyes away from Lacroix to take in the androgynous, angular face, the different colored eyes of the founder and creative director of Delos Destinations: Dr. Moira O’Deorain. In her lap, a rabbit trembles slightly as Dr. O’Deorain’s long fingers stroke between its ears. 

“I know,” Dr. O’Deorain says. She turns back to face Lacroix, her head tilted to the side. “I was in the middle of something important.”

“Mr. Morrison and Mr. Reyes are here to finalize the terms of their contract,” Angela begins to say. 

“Overwatch,” Dr. O’Deorain says. “I know.”

Angela folds her arms over her chest. Gabe can see a muscle working in her jaw even from where he’s standing. 

“It’s best if we finish this conversation in the conference room -”

“No,” Dr. O’Deorain says. She glances over her shoulder at Gabe and Jack, one eyebrow arched, appraising them. “You wouldn’t have brought them here if your mind wasn’t already made up, Angela.”

“You know as well as I do that my decision only means so much,” Angela says, voice clipped. A small twitch tugs up one corner of Dr. O’Deorain’s mouth. There’s a big game going on between these two women, an iceberg of a power struggle that Gabe can only see the very tip of. 

“Tell me,” Dr. O’Deorain says, directing her words at Gabe and Jack. “Why should I let Overwatch interfere in Westworld’s security? Why are you interested in this contract in particular - aside from the obvious monetary benefits, of course?”

“It’s an enormous challenge,” Jack says immediately, taking a half-step forward, almost stepping in front of Gabe. Dr. O’Deorain doesn’t make any movement to get up, or even look at Jack directly. She keeps her head half-turned towards Jack, but her eyes wander back to Lacroix, even as Jack continues speaking. “The sheer enormity of the park itself, not to mention the volume of proprietary data - there’s nothing else like it.”

“A challenge,” Dr. O’Deorain repeats. Her hand keeps moving between the rabbit’s ears. “And you think you can handle it?”

“Absolutely,” Jack says with the unwavering confidence of a man who’s never backed down from a challenge in his life - who’s never been told he  _ can’t _ do something. “We’re the best in the business, hands down.”

“And it has nothing to do with wanting our host technology?” Dr. O’Deorain asks. 

“What would we want with your host technology?”

Dr. O’Deorain’s mouth curves into a faint smile. She leans forward and sets the rabbit down on the floor. It hops away to join the others - only then does Gabe realize that all the rabbits are trying to crowd behind Lacroix. Dr. O’Deorain stands, her long limbs unfolding from her seat. She clasps her hands behind her back and levels a look at Jack. She’s nearly the same height as both he and Gabe. 

“You’ve seen first hand the capabilities of the hosts in the field, Mr. Morrison,” she says. “You’re a smart man. You’ve served in war. You know the value of a soldier who follows orders without question.”

The corner of Jack’s mouth quirks up. “It’d make parts of my job a lot easier,” he allows. “Knowing that I don’t have to send good men and women into danger - well, that’s a peace of mind that I’d kill for.”

“I’m certain you would,” Dr. O’Deorain says. Her heterochromatic eyes slide to Gabe. “And you?”

“Overwatch’s goals are my own,” Gabe says, with a blink. He doesn’t like where this conversation is going - something about Dr. O’Deorain sets his teeth on edge, but he can’t quite figure out why that may be. He keeps his guard up, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Dr. O’Deorain smiles wider, the points of her incisors peeking over her lower lip. 

“You do quite a bit of the dirty work yourself, Mr. Reyes,” she says. 

“I don’t mind getting my hands dirty,” Gabe says. 

“But the host technology could alleviate you of that burden,” she says. Gabe shrugs. 

“I like knowing my people are going in with both eyes wide open,” Gabe says, holding Dr. O’Deorain’s gaze with his own. “Doesn’t seem right throwing resources in like cannon fodder, just because we can.”

Whatever Dr. O’Deorain was expecting Gabe to say, it wasn’t that. Her smile falls a notch, her brow furrowing slightly as she considers his response. Instead of addressing Gabe, though, she turns back to Lacroix. 

“The host technology is not for sale,” Dr. O’Deorain says. She reaches out and tucks an escaped lock of hair behind the host’s ear. Lacroix blinks slowly, barely registering the touch of her creator. “But you both already know that. You think you can change my mind. But you can’t.” She glances back at them. “Angela will tell you I’m very stubborn.”

Angela shifts on her heels, her fingers digging into her biceps, but she says nothing. Dr. O’Deorain gives her a smile. 

“Corporate espionage is among our top concerns,” Dr. O’Deorain goes on. “It’s why the NDA you signed was airtight. It’s why we watched you both very carefully when you were sampling the delights the park has to offer. It’s why we pulled the recordings to review before you came back for this meeting.” 

She pauses, letting that morsel sink in. Gabe sees Jack shift his weight, roll one of his shoulders back. He straightens his own spine, remembering Aleksandra’s insistence that they weren’t perverts, but wondering how much, exactly, they observed. 

The moment stretches on, Dr. O’Deorain apparently reveling in the tension she’s created. Finally, she turns back around to face them, clasping her hands behind her back again.

“Overwatch is among the least of my concerns,” she says. “I know that we will be good partners.”

※

With the tacit approval of Dr. O’Deorain, Gabe and Jack spend the rest of the afternoon with Angela and Delos’s internal counsel to hammer out the broad strokes of their new partnership. They’ll leave the finer details for their lawyers to handle, but Jack thrives on this sort of thing; he’s always taken the lead on the business, front-facing side of Overwatch. Gabe is happy to let him, so long as he gets the freedom he needs to run his own team as he sees fit. He listens carefully to the negotiations, speaking up when it seems like they’ll try to paper over his interests. Every time Gabe speaks, Jack’s head swivels back to look at him, his eyes bright with the thrill of the negotiation. 

At the end of the day, Angela looks almost relieved when she stands up to shake Jack’s hand, then Gabe’s. 

“I’m looking forward to working with you both,” she says as the Delos internal counsel gathers up their things and leaves the conference room. She almost sounds like she means it. She waits for the door to close before she speaks again, her expression going more serious. “It’s been a long time coming - Dr. O’Deorain has been reticent about bringing in outside help, but I think Overwatch is exactly what we need.”

Jack nods, matching her serious expression. 

“We understand the sensitivity,” Jack says, practically sincere. “We’re not here to make huge, sweeping changes. We just want to make Delos better.”

Angela puts them up in the guest suites for the night. The hotel is perched on a cliff that overlooks the sprawling park far below, tiny pinpricks of light against the velvety black desert that surrounds the scattered settlements of Westworld. Jack insists that they pay a visit to the bar for a celebratory drink. He invites Angela to join them, but she politely declines. 

“I have got some early appointments,” Angela says. “But - by all means, please enjoy yourselves.”

The bar is all sleek dark wood and gold, the light fixtures ensconced with white frosted glass that softens the light to a dull glow. Jack finds them a corner booth with a view of the whole bar and slides behind the table, loosening his collar with one hand, the other slung over the back of the booth. Gabe sits next to him, a weight lifting off his shoulders. He fiddles with his cufflinks as he looks across the table at Jack. 

“Knew we could do it,” Jack says with a flushed grin. “Knew we could fucking do it.”

“It’s big,” Gabe says with a nod. He can’t help but crack a smile too. 

“Big? It’s  _ enormous _ ,” Jack says. He lets out a little laugh, shaking his head. “Holy fuck. We did it.”

A pretty, slim waitress approaches their table. Jack drags his eyes up over her body, lingering on the way her dress hugs her curves. The spark in his eye goes hungry. 

“What can I do for you, gentlemen?” she asks, her soft voice and smile betraying no reaction to Jack’s wandering eyes. 

“Champagne,” he says immediately. “Your best bottle - whatever that is. We’re celebrating.”

“Right away,” the waitress says. She turns, her ponytail swishing behind her as she walks away, mirroring the sway of her hips. 

“The lawyers still have to finalize everything,” Gabe points out. Jack waves a hand dismissively. 

“God - don’t ruin this, alright? The important part was getting the good doctor on board with this, and we  _ did _ that,” Jack says. 

“It could still go sideways,” Gabe says. 

“Gabe!” Jack groans. Gabe puts up his hands. 

“Alright, alright. I’m just saying - I’ll feel better when we have the paperwork signed, sealed and delivered.”

“The hard part is over, Gabe. Just enjoy this, alright?” Jack says. Gabe lets his breath out. 

“Alright.”

“Alright!” Jack claps his hands and then rubs his palms together. “Good.”

The waitress reappears with two glasses in hand, trailed by a bartender who is cradling a bottle of champagne like it’s an infant. The bartender presents the bottle to Jack, who takes great pleasure in leaning over to inspect the label. Jack nods and sits back, flashing a grin at Gabe. The bartender produces what looks like a short sword. He runs the flat of the blade along the neck of the bottle and then, with one quick motion, he slices upwards, popping the cork right out of the bottle with the edge of the blade. The waitress dutifully holds out the glasses for the bartender to fill. She sets a glass down in front of Gabe and Jack as the bartender sets the bottle to chill in a silver bucket by their table. Jack raises his glass to Gabe. 

“To our success,” Jack says, an unmistakable hint of pride in his voice. “We did it, Gabe.”

Gabe smiles in spite of himself. He clinks his glass gently against Jack’s. 

“We did it.”

※

Gabe helps Jack finish the bottle, but declines to stay for another one, even though Jack tries to insist. 

“I’m tired,” Gabe says. “And I might actually get some sleep tonight, for once.”

“What, no celebratory cigarette?”

“Maybe just one. I feel like we’ve earned it,” Gabe says. “But - really. A good night’s sleep sounds amazing right now.”

Jack laughs. “Funny how all that stress just melts away, huh? Alright - fine. Go get your beauty sleep, princess.”

“I have to make sure at least one of us looks good,” Gabe says, straight-faced. “Otherwise, nobody will take us seriously.”

It’s a testament to Jack’s good mood that he just laughs more. 

“Yeah. Sure. You keep thinking that.”

“Try not to enjoy yourself too much,” Gabe says. Jack waves him off. “Night, Jack.”

“Night, Gabe.”

Gabe strolls out of the bar, but instead of going straight to his room, he wanders out onto the deck that overlooks the park. It’s a cool night; Gabe’s suit does almost nothing to stop the breeze from cutting through him. There’s a railing along the edge of the deck that borders the very edge of the cliff side. Gabe stops there, leaning against the railing with both hands as he looks down into the near-pitch darkness of Westworld far below. He reaches into his inner coat pocket and comes up with a slightly battered, half-empty pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He sets a cigarette between his lips and shields the end with a cupped hand as he brings the lighter up. It takes two tries, but Gabe manages to get the cigarette lit. He takes a long, slow drag, holding the smoke on his tongue as he closes his eyes. After a long moment, he exhales, letting the smoke out slowly. It’s too dark to see anything in the park, but it doesn’t stop Gabe’s mind from wandering. 

He knew that coming back here would dredge up a lot feelings he worked hard to bury, but he didn’t expect it to hit him like this. It’s been months since his first trip into Westworld. All day, Gabe felt like he had been on edge. And not just because of the weight of the contract negotiations with Delos - every time Gabe turned a corner in the facility, Gabe half-expected to see Jesse, and the fact that he didn’t was…

Gabe takes another drag from his cigarette, trying to let the nicotine soothe the jumpy feeling in his brain. He’s being irrational. He knows this. 

Instead, he tries to hold onto that feeling of victory that winning the Delos contract should make him feel. It’s been a long time since Jack looked so happy and so relaxed - that in itself is a victory. Maybe things will settle down for a while. 

Gabe focuses on that as he finishes his cigarette, savoring it. As he stubs out the end, he considers having another. He  _ did _ just win the biggest contract of his career - Overwatch is already successful, but now he could tack “wildly” ahead of it and it would practically be an understatement. He decides against it, though. With on final look at the dark valley below, Gabe turns and heads back into the hotel. 

Delos has put up Gabe and Jack in two of their nicer suites, though Gabe would guess that there isn’t a bad room in the place. The hallways are long, the doors between rooms far between. Gabe takes his time as he makes his way to his room. The solitude, the quiet, is pleasant after weeks and weeks working around the clock on this contract. There will be work to do tomorrow, but Gabe can enjoy this for now. 

Gabe finds his room towards the end of the hallway. He scans the wristband that’s still wrapped around his wrist and hears the lock click open. Gabe pushes open the door. 

“Hey darling,” a painfully familiar voice says. 

Gabe’s head snaps up. Standing there is Jesse McCree, dressed like the day Gabe met him; barefoot, pants sling low on his hips, shirt half-tucked and unbuttoned, exposing the planes of his chest. His skin glows in the soft yellow light of the suite’s lamps. He looks  _ good _ \- happy, healthy. Gabe stares, a barrage of emotions pounding against his rib cage all at once. 

“Like what you see?” Jesse asks, spreading his arms. “C’mere, you got me all to yourself.”

“Jesse -” Gabe manages to choke out. Jesse cocks his head to the side. 

“That’s me. You got a name I can call you, darling?”

Gabe’s chest seizes up. There’s no recognition in Jesse’s eyes - he doesn’t know him, he doesn’t remember. It feels like the bottom has dropped out of Gabe’s stomach. 

Gabe turns on his heel and walks out of the room. 

“Sweetheart? Where’re you going?” Jesse’s voice floats after him before the door to the suite closes with a snap. 

Unsteadily, Gabe makes his way back downstairs. He doesn’t really know where he’s going other than just  _ away _ . He didn’t think that he’d have such a strong reaction to seeing Jesse again, but the lack of recognition in his face was heart wrenching. 

Gabe finds himself back at the bar. He goes right up to the bartender and asks for a double of whiskey. Gabe drinks it down in one long gulp without even sitting down, the burn in his throat doing nothing to soothe the burn that’s prickling behind his eyes. He sits down to order another and drinks this one more slowly, hunched over the bar, staring at nothing in particular. 

“What’re you doing here?” Jack asks, suddenly behind Gabe, clapping him on the shoulder. “I thought you’d gone to bed.”

“Uh huh,” Gabe says. He waves to the bartender for another top up. Jack watches the bartender pour two more fingers of whiskey into Gabe’s glass. 

“Did you go up to your room at all?” Jack asks. Glass halfway back to his mouth, Gabe pauses and looks sideways at Jack. He sets his glass back on the bar with a sharp tap. 

“What did you do,” Gabe says slowly. 

“I thought you might like company,” Jack says. Gabe can smell the alcohol on his breath. 

“Not like  _ that _ ,” Gabe hisses. Confusion crosses Jack’s face. 

“You went back to your room? So you saw -”

“He doesn’t  _ remember  _ who I am,” Gabe says, his voice quivering more than he’d like to admit. Jack blinks - he doesn’t roll his eyes, but it’s a near thing. 

“Of course not. Does that matter? Just enjoy yourself. We’ve earned it.”

Gabe stands abruptly. Jack grabs his arm but Gabe wrenches out of his grip. If Gabe stays, he’ll say something, do something he’ll later regret. He needs to get out of there. 

He finds himself back on the balcony, gripping the railing hard and breathing heavily through his nose as he stares down into the darkened park. His head is spinning with a strange kind of vertigo. His chest aches. 

Eventually, Gabe gathers enough brain cells to fumble inside his jacket for his cigarettes and lighter. He manages to light a cigarette with a shaky hand. He sucks on it like a drowning man gasping for oxygen. 

Just as Gabe is thinking he’s relieved that Jack didn’t come after him, Jack appears on the balcony. Gabe lights another cigarette. 

“I told them to take it out of your room,” Jack says. Gabe doesn’t say anything, though he does take a deep drag from his cigarette. Jack leans against the railing, waiting for Gabe to say something. When Gabe stays quiet, puffing away at his cigarette, Jack lets out a sigh. “It’s not a big deal, Gabe. I thought you’d be excited.”

Gabe shakes his head a little, though he still can’t bring himself to speak. He takes a deep drag from his cigarette and holds the smoke on his tongue. Jack makes a little frustrated noise. 

“You’re taking this too seriously,” Jack says. “It’s not a thing, Gabe.”

Gabe lets all the smoke out of lungs with a noise that could almost be a sob. 

“I just want to be alone tonight,” Gabe says finally, his voice coming out like a croak. Jack looks at him critically, half of his face bathed in the soft light pouring out of the hotel, the other half lost in shadow. 

“Don’t get weird about this,” Jack says, a warning note coming into his voice. 

“I’m fine. Just leave me alone, okay? I’m  _ fine _ .”

For a moment, Jack looks like he’s going to say something else, but, finally, he looks away, shaking his head. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and walks back into the hotel. Gabe watches him go before he turns back to the railing. He knocks another cigarette out of the pack - the second to last one - and lights it, his hand still shaking. He thinks, vaguely, that he’ll need to find another pack. The smoke curls off his tongue, slipping down towards the park below and disappearing into the night. 


	11. Circuit Breaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse begins to experience some kind of malfunction.

Jesse blinks open his eyes as the first light comes through the slats of the window. The room comes into focus: it's small but relatively neat, a wardrobe and washstand on the opposite wall from his bed. Dust catches the light that falls across the bed and the rumpled bedlinens pooled around his waist. He rubs at his eyes and sits up, stretching as the nightmares from the night before melt away. He glances toward the door. He can hear the sounds of the bordello as it begins to wake up. Jesse stands, johns hanging low around his hips, and goes to pour some water in the basin to splash on his face. The cold wakes him up, driving the dreams further away, hopefully soon to be forgotten. He leans both hands on the edge of the washstand and breaths out: it all feels familiar, but something doesn’t feel quite right. Jesse glances back at the bed, brow furrowing. 

Did he go to sleep alone?

Jesse pulls on his clothes and grabs his paperback from the nightstand before he heads downstairs to the main floor of the bordello. Only a handful of folks are up - Elmo, the bartender, is already behind the bar, polishing endless drinking glasses. 

“Morning,” Elmo says, his eyes following Jesse as he walks through the main room. Jesse waves a hand in his general direction. “Long night?”

“Long enough,” Jesse says. He walks past the bar into the little room behind the main room they use as a kitchen. There’s a pot of coffee already on the stove, which Jesse helps himself to on his way out the back door. He pauses only to grab an apple from a crate. Behind the bordello, Jesse finds his usual spot under a scraggly tree and eases himself down into the dirt. Back pressed against the trunk, book balanced on his knees, Jesse eats his apple and sips his coffee - a small moment of peace before the day’s work really begins. 

A scrawny orange cat slinks around the corner and mewls at Jesse. She rubs her cheek against the tree. Jesse looks down at her. 

“I don’t got anything for you today,” Jesse says. The cat mewls again. Jesse sets his cup of coffee aside so he can scratch between the cat’s ears. She purrs and flop over in the dust, sliding up close to Jesse’s side. He gives her a little smile and goes back to his book, his fingers still stroking her head. 

When he’s finished the gritty dregs of his coffee, Jesse reluctantly heads back inside. He gives the cat a final pat before he shoos her away. 

“Go on,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Back inside, Jesse leaves his coffee cup in the kitchen. He allows himself one moment before he steps back into the main room of the bordello; he closes his eyes and lets his breath out slowly. He could use a smoke. 

“How come your coffee always tastes like dirt, Elmo?” Jesse asks as he walks past the bar. Elmo glances over at him. He’s somehow still polishing glasses. 

“You don’t gotta drink it,” Elmo says. “If you’re gonna keep complaining about it, maybe you oughta make your own.”

“Maybe I will,” Jesse says. “Anyone come by yet?”

“Not yet,” Elmo says. Jesse nods. He moves back to the stairs to take up his usual post on one of the bottom steps. He sits, letting his legs sprawl out in front of him, back against the wall, and reopens his book. 

Time passes as it always does in the bordello: slowly and uneventfully. Some of the others come down into the main room, arranging themselves throughout. Business won’t really pick up until the sun begins to set, but that’s no excuse for laziness. They’ve at least got to keep up appearances. Jesse is expected to be on the floor virtually all the time - he’s the best Deadlock’s got. He remembers a time when that meant something different than it does now. Today, those memories seem much more in the front of his mind than usual. Jesse’s having a hard time concentrating on his book. He realizes he’s read the same sentence over and over, the words sliding by without connecting to anything. Jesse lets out a frustrated sigh and snaps the book closed. He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to block out the noise in his head. 

“You want to make yourself useful?” Elmo asks. He’s moved on to wiping down the polished wood of the bar. Jesse opens his mouth for a smart response, but two strange men walk into the bordello. He leans forward to get a better look at them; they must be newcomers - they don’t yet have that dusty look that most folks in Sweetwater have. They’re both tall - one blond, the other dark-haired. 

“We’re looking for Skags,” the blond man announces to nobody in particular. Jesse sits up a little straighter. There’s something familiar about these men that he can’t quite put his finger on. Everyone in the bordello has turned to look at them. Jesse watches Ryder lean back in his seat and spread his legs a little wider. Ryder wasn’t ever very subtle

“Who’s asking?” Elmo asks, leaning against the bar. Jesse knows his shotgun is just under his right hand, easily within reach in case anyone starts trouble. Even these days, nobody in their right mind starts trouble with Deadlock, but if these men are new to town, they might not know any better. 

“We are,” the blond man says. “We’ve got a business proposal for him.”

“He ain’t interested,” Elmo says. The blond man narrows his eyes. 

“You sure about that?”

“I’m sure he ain’t here for you to ask him,” Elmo says. 

“Well, when’s he coming back?”

Elmo shrugs. The blond man makes a frustrated noise. The dark haired man looks less perturbed by this development. 

“We can come back later,” he says. The blond looks at him, frowning. 

“What if we miss him?”

The dark haired man shrugs and spreads his hands. The blond glances around the bordello, his eyes finding Jesse’s. For some reason, Jesse feels his stomach lurch. He wants to look away but knows he shouldn’t. The blond smirks. 

“I guess we sample the goods then,” the blond says, looking back at the dark haired man. “What d’you think? Up for a little afternoon delight?”

“Might as well,” the dark haired man says. The blond points at Jesse. 

“I think that one's your type.”

The dark haired man looks at Jesse, a softness in his light brown eyes that Jesse wasn’t expecting. His heart - inexplicably - skips a beat. 

“Yeah, alright,” the dark haired man says. 

“Jesse, come down and say hello,” Elmo says. He’s relaxed a notch - the prospect of new customers almost always makes Elmo much more personable. Still, his hand lingers on the bar over his shotgun. “He’s our best.”

“You hear that?” the blond says. “You’re in for a treat.”

Jesse steps down the stairs, holding his book slack at his side. He gives the men a smile, looking up through his eyelashes at the dark haired man in a way that Jesse knows most men find irresistible. The man with the dark hair looks Jesse up and down appraisingly. He looks familiar in an odd way. It makes some twinge in Jesse’s chest, though he can’t place the feeling. Instead, he shakes it off. 

“What’s your name, cowboy?” Jesse asks. 

“George,” the man says. Jesse reaches up and runs his finger along the collar of his jacket. Up close, the man - George - looks less familiar. Still, something nags at the back of Jesse’s mind, even as he tries to push it down. 

“George,” Jesse repeats. “Why don’t you come upstairs with me, George?”

George looks over at his blond companion, who gives him a lewd smirk. 

“Go on, Georgie. I’ll make myself busy,” the blond says, his gaze wandering back to Ryder. Jesse curls his fingers into the collar of George’s jacket, tugging lightly. 

“Come on, George,” Jesse says. 

“Alright.”

Jesse smiles and turns to head up the stairs. After a moment, he hears George’s footsteps follow in his wake. 

This, at least, is familiar. Jesse can almost lose himself in the routine of it - maybe this romp with George will banish those strange, unsettled thoughts he’s been having all day once and for all. 

Deadlock didn’t always use whoring to keep itself afloat, but whoring has turned out to be a fairly lucrative alternative to running guns along the border. Neither occupation has been particularly rewarding for Jesse, and he’d be hard-pressed to pick which he prefers; both have their disadvantages. 

At least he’s less likely to die messily by spreading his legs. 

Jesse pushes open the door of his room and turns to face George. He steps in close as soon as George is across the threshold, running his hands up George’s chest and pushing his coat off his shoulders. 

“What do you like, George?” Jesse asks, letting his voice go low and husky. He sees his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. 

“I - how much is it gonna cost me?” he asks. Jesse shrugs. 

“Depends how fancy you wanna get,” Jesse says. He pushes George’s coat off completely then moves his hands down to pluck open the buttons of his shirt. “You want me to suck you? You wanna fuck me? Maybe both?”

Jesse hears his breath hitch. He loves an easy sell. 

“Both is good,” George manages to say. Jesse looks back up to smile at him. 

“Ten dollars, sweetheart,” Jesse says. “I’ll make it worth every penny.”

He watches George fumble with his wallet and gets a glance at the wad of bills inside. Maybe he could distract George long enough to take a couple extra bucks for his emergency stash. By the looks of it, George wouldn’t miss it. Jesse wets his lips with the tip of his tongue. 

“Put it on the washstand there,” Jesse says. He takes a step back, pulling his shirt up over his head as he goes. “Then come to bed.”

George practically falls over himself to comply, kicking off his boots as he goes, pulling his suspenders off his shoulders and letting his pants hang low on his hips. When he manages to turn back around, Jesse’s already naked on his bed, legs spread and stroking himself lightly. He won’t get off from this - Jesse knows better than to expect that - but he at least has to put on a good show. 

“C’mere, darling,” he purrs. George manages to kick off his pants before he gets down on the bed. He tries to climb over Jesse, his bulk caging him in, but Jesse slips out from underneath him at the last moment. He coaxes George onto his back. “I’ll take real good care of you, don’t you worry.”

George nods dumbly, his pupils already blown wide. Jesse gives him a smirk before he looks down to see what he’s working with. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face as he leans down to take the tip of George’s dick between his lips. He’s hard already - eager - and while he’s not exactly the biggest Jesse’s ever had, Jesse knows he’ll have to pace himself if he wants to be able to suck some other guy off without cracking his jaw later. He slides his mouth down around George’s dick, doing his best to make it sloppy and wet. George twitches underneath him. One of his hands finds its way into Jesse’s hair, pushing it off his forehead. Jesse raises his eyes to look at George’s face. George is watching him hungrily, his lips parted, his breath coming quick. He pets Jesse’s hair back and away from his face. It sends a jolt down Jesse’s spine - the gesture familiar, almost certainly too intimate. Jesse pulls off with an obscene slurp. 

“You wanna fuck me?” Jesse asks, wrapping his hand around George’s cock and stroking him slowly. 

“Yeah - hell yeah.”

“How d’you want me?” Jesse says. He runs his free hand up George’s thigh, eyeing George’s cock. “I can ride you, if you want. But -”

“Yeah? But?”

Jesse wets his lips and raises his eyes to meet George’s. He only needs one look to know he’s already got him on the hook. 

“It costs a little more, and I really want to -”

“Whatever you want,” George says, his cock twitching in Jesse’s palm. Jesse breathes out what sounds like a relieved noise. 

“Yeah? Okay. Good - lemme just…” Jesse trails off and clambers up to straddle George’s hips. He leans over the side of the bed to dip his hand into his nightstand drawer. George is running his hands over Jesse’s thighs and up over his hips, the calluses on his palms rough on Jesse’s skin. That strange flash of memory flares in Jesse’s mind again. It makes him fumble with the jar of slick, but he recovers. He pushes all of his thoughts aside to focus on the task at hand. 

Jesse lifts up on his knees, which are pressing onto the bed on either side of George’s hips. He reaches back with two slicked fingers and works them into his ass. Jesse lets his eyes slide closed. To George, he might look like he’s enjoying himself, but to Jesse, it’s just work. He wonders if he’ll ever find someone where it doesn’t feel like work - someone who doesn’t look at him like he’s a side of meat, someone like the characters in all those books he’s read, someone who sees past Jesse’s protective barriers, who can learn to love him, flaws and all. Someone who can take Jesse away from this place. 

It’s a dream that Jesse knows doesn’t have any basis in reality, but it keeps his mind occupied when he’s spreading his legs for every john - or George. 

He’s still sore from yesterday’s work, though the slick eases the way. Jesse slicks George’s cock too, getting it nice and wet more for his sake than George’s. George does seem to enjoy it, though; his hips twitch up, thrusting into Jesse’s palm. His face is flushed, a light sheen of sweat on his brow and chest. 

“Easy, cowboy,” Jesse says. “I’m gonna take care of you real good.”

Jesse steadies George’s cock with one hand as he lifts himself up. He rubs the tip of him between his cheeks and then sinks down slowly. He lets his head fall back. 

“Oh, fuck,” George says, his hands coming up to grab Jesse’s hips. His fingers press into Jesse’s skin. “God - fuck. You’re tight.”

Jesse exhales once he’s fully seated on George’s cock. He rolls his hips. 

“You like that, sweetheart?” Jesse asks, letting his voice go breathy.

“Yeah - yeah it’s real good -”

“Mm, you feel so big,” Jesse says. He starts bouncing on George’s cock slowly, working up a steady rhythm. George tries to guide Jesse’s hips back and forth with his hands, but his tempo is all off, making Jesse’s movements more jerky than he’d like. He tries to pry one hand off his hip. “Wanna feel your hands on me, sweetheart.”

George wraps his hand around Jesse’s half-hard cock, but his sense of rhythm is abysmal. Jesse does his best, squeezing his eyes shut, hoping that George has a short fuse. By the sound of it, George is enjoying himself. He’s fucking up into Jesse with little jerky upward thrusts between Jesse’s own movements. His grip is too tight around Jesse’s cock, but Jesse isn’t the one who needs to finish. 

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” George says, practically wheezing with each breath. 

“Come for me, darling,” Jesse says, twisting his hips a little, trying to get a better angle on his cock at the very least. He’s panting with the effort of trying to get George off. He leans forward and plants his hands on George’s chest. “Come on, make me feel it -”

George groans throatily. Jesse manages not to laugh, turning it into more of a gasp as George starts bucking wildly beneath him. Jesse braces himself against George’s chest and hopes it’s over sooner rather than later. With a grunt, George rears up, pulling Jesse down hard into his lap, his breath hot and moist against Jesse’s face. Jesse feels his dick twitch inside him. George groans again, still trying to thrust clumsily even as his cock softens. He turns his head to plant a kiss on Jesse’s mouth. Jesse pulls away. 

“Darlin’,” Jesse breathes, leaning back in George’s lap and running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “You sure know how to show a fella a good time.”

“That was - wow,” George says. Jesse chuckles. He slides off of George’s lap. A trickle of his come slides down the inside of his thigh, but Jesse will worry about that once he gets George out of his bed. He bends to retrieve George’s pants, dipping his hand into the pocket to feel for the wallet. “Come back to bed.”

Jesse glances over his shoulder. “That’s gonna cost you, sweetheart.”

“What, I can’t enjoy the afterglow?” George asks. Jesse palms a couple bucks from his wallet before he holds his pants out to George. 

“Like I said, it’s gonna cost you,” Jesse says. George makes a face. 

“Kind of ruins it, doesn’t it?” George asks. Jesse raises an eyebrow. He dumps the pair of pants on the bed and turns to retrieve his own. 

“You get what you pay for, darling.”

Eventually, George finally leaves - though not before Jesse collects his extra fee for riding him. George grumbles but Jesse palms his cock through his pants and murmurs, “Come see me again sometime, darling.” George leaves with a spring in his step. 

Jesse checks the bills he pilfered from George’s wallet once he’s safely gone. He’s shocked and pleased to find two tens and a twenty tucked between a few singles. It’s a stroke of luck he could never have counted on. Carefully, Jesse pulls up the loose floorboard just under his nightstand. Jesse tucks the stolen bills in the hollow underneath, joining the other dollars he’s stashed away when he can - a stack that never seems to get bigger, but always speaks to Jesse’s long-held hope that, one day, he’ll get out of Sweetwater, away from Deadlock. He’ll set off on his own. A fresh start.. With today’s find, it almost feels within reach, even. 

Jesse’s just about to close up the floorboard again when something catches his eye. He moves some of the other odds and ends in the hollow aside - a doll that had been his mother’s, an old journal of his dad’s, some shiny bits and pieces - to find a square of fabric that is entirely strange to him. Jesse pulls it out and sits back on his heels. It’s a handkerchief. A  _ nice _ handkerchief; it’s starched and pressed, crisp white except for the dried brown splotches of blood that have soaked into the fabric. There’s initials embroidered in the corner in a deep, dark red thread. GR. 

Jesse stares at the initials, his head going a little swimmy. Something itches at his brain like a word he can’t remember that sits on the tip of his tongue. The more Jesse tries to focus on it, the more it eludes him. 

Suddenly, a memory flashes in front of his eyes; a man with a black hat and a soft brown goatee looking at him with concern. His light brown eyes are kind, warm. 

Jesse feels his heart seize up. He crumples the handkerchief in his hand and shoves it back into the hollow under the floorboards. When he gets back up to clean himself off, Jesse scrubs harder than he means to, but those kind eyes seem to follow him in spite of his best efforts. He doesn’t know why it feels like he’s lost someone - especially when he doesn’t even remember who that person is. 

Once Jesse’s cleaned up, he heads back downstairs to while away the rest of the afternoon. He keeps thinking about that damned handkerchief and the man it must belong to - the man with the soft beard and kind eyes. None of it makes sense. He takes another customer around sundown - this one just wants a quick fuck from behind, barely worth the couple of bucks Jesse earns for the limp he’ll surely be walking with later. He squeezes his eyes closed for most of it, and that mystery man’s face floats in front of his mind’s eye again. Jesse finds himself aching somewhere deep in his chest. 

He barely says a word to his customer as he takes his leave. Jesse glances at the floorboard covering the hollow under his nightstand, wondering if there’s another clue as to who the man Jesse only sort of remembers might be. He doesn’t get a chance to check as a sharp knock on his door startled him back to the present. He scrambles to pull up his pants. 

“What?” he asks irritably. 

“Skags is looking for you,” Ryder’s voice says through the door. 

“Right now?”

“What, you still fucking that guy? He looked like he had a short fuse, you ain’t able to get him off?”

Jesse makes a face. “Shut up. He’s long gone.”

“Quit dawdling then.”

Jesse fastens his pants and tugs his shirt on, making an effort to get the buttons right. He runs a hand through his messy hair and hopes he looks presentable enough. 

Skags keeps a parlor in the bordello where he conducts most of Deadlock’s business. He’s got his own house and some land just outside of Sweetwater, but doesn’t want any of Deadlock’s business touching his family life. Ever since they set up shop in Sweetwater, Skags has been more careful about toeing that line; he wants to make a legitimate businessman of himself, somehow, even though all he knows is whoring and running guns. His more palatable ventures have largely been failures, so he keeps the illegal businesses going to keep himself afloat. It’s a scheme that’s more or less worked for a surprisingly long time. 

While Jesse likes having a real bed to lie his head down at night, he does miss the days spent running guns. It was more interesting work than lying on his back all day, at the very least. 

It’s one of the reasons Jesse has continued being a sort of errand boy for Skags; it breaks up the monotony of getting fucked all day long. Lately, though, it’s felt like Skags has deliberately been sending Jesse on useless expeditions, if he uses Jesse at all. Even though Jesse has been nursing his resentment, he still finds himself jumping at the chance to see what Skags needs tonight. 

The parlor is situated at the end of the hallway, the closed double doors separating Skags from the rest of the bordello. Jesse raises his hand and knocks on the door. 

“What?”

“It’s McCree. Ryder said you were looking for me.”

There’s a pause. 

“Alright.”

Jesse pushes open the door and stands just inside the entrance, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. The sun’s already beginning to set, casting Skags’s parlor in shadows. He spots Skags sitting in his usual armchair in the corner. Jesse can see the red, glowing end of his cigar in the dim light. The cigar smoke adds another layer of haze to the darkened atmosphere. If Jesse was younger, he’d find the whole set up intimidating. These days, though, Jesse’s known Skags long enough - and has proven himself again and again - he knows better than to let Skags’s swagger steal the upper hand. 

“Busy day, McCree?” Skags drawls, knocking some ash off the end of his cigar. Jesse shrugs. 

“I’m only gettin’ started,” Jesse says. 

“As much as I like havin’ you on the floor, McCree, I need you to run me an errand,” Skags says. Jesse tenses - he’s all too familiar with how Skags’s errands usually end up. 

“Sure,” Jesse says, keeping his tone light. “Wherever you need me, boss.”

Skags smiles around his cigar. “That’s why I like you, McCree. Always willing to get your hands dirty.”

Jesse doesn’t say anything in response, though he sorely wants to. He wasn’t on board with the move into Sweetwater, into setting up the bordello - but, at the time, he didn’t speak up. He could kick himself for that. 

“I hear tell there’s some Los Muertos folks in town,” Skags says. Jesse waits for the other shoe to drop. “Heard they were paying a visit to the sheriff.”

Jesse grimaces. He knows what that means; the sheriff’s posse managed to catch some Los Muertos scouts that strayed too close to town and threw them in lock up. 

And now Jesse gets to break into Sweetwater’s jail. 

“Alright,” Jesse says finally. Skags raises his eyebrows. 

“Alright?”

“I’ll go talk to ‘em.”

Skags sits back in his armchair, taking a long drag from his cigar. He smiles around it, his face cast in shadow. 

“Knew I could count on you, McCree.”

※

It’s a new moon tonight. Sweetwater sits in shadows, its streets quiet at this time of night. Light and sound pours out of one or two saloons. Jesse knows that the Deadlock bordello is in full swing and won’t be quiet until the pre-dawn hours. He’s going to miss out on a few of his regulars, certainly, but he’s not as worried about it tonight. 

This requires his full attention. 

For all of Jesse’s brash swagger in the daylight, he’s surprisingly adept at blending in and going unnoticed when he needs to. It’s one of his better strengths - something that’s become invaluable during his time in Deadlock. 

He knows all the routes through town that will keep him concealed from wandering eyes. He had been a kid in Sweetwater, exploring with reckless abandon before his father got swept up in Deadlock’s business. The town hasn’t changed much at all as Jesse’s gotten older; if anything, the sprawl of buildings that radiates from the main street through town only provides Jesse with more options for cover. 

The jail is near the railroad tracks. The marshal’s men rotate who keeps watch, but they’re surprisingly lax about their night watch. Jesse can only see one person in the lamp light through the front window. He recognizes Danny Dixon - a regular of his, and a stroke of good luck. Jesse straightens as he melts out of the shadows, going right to the window so his shadow passes through Danny’s field of vision. Sure enough, the movement catches Danny’s eye. He looks up sharply, his hand going for his pistol, but his face relaxes when he sees Jesse. He shakes his head a little. A moment later, the door opens. 

“What are you doing here, McCree?” Danny asks. He stands just inside the doorway, the light from the lamp making his silhouette glow. 

“Heard you had some Los Muertos scouts,” Jesse says, staying where he is, tilting his head back to look up at Danny. 

“Ain’t none of your concern,” Danny says. 

“No, see it is, though.”

“Skags send you?”

“You know he did.”

Danny makes a face. He spits off the porch. 

“Skags should know better and mind his business for once. He’s gonna find trouble.”

“That’s why he sent me instead,” Jesse says, spreading his hands and giving Danny a rakish smile. From what Jesse can see if Danny’s backlit face, Danny isn’t convinced. “I just need a quick word, Danny. I don’t mean no harm.”

“The marshal is expecting him in one piece tomorrow morning.”

“What’s it gonna take to convince you I ain’t angling for anything other than a conversation?” Jesse says. He steps up onto the jail’s porch so he’s face to face with Danny. Up close, Jesse can tell Danny’s resolve isn’t ironclad. He lowers his chin and peers at Danny through his lashes. “Danny?”

“You’re trouble, McCree,” Danny says, shaking his head. 

“You know, everyone says that. I think trouble just finds me.”

Danny shakes his head again but he doesn’t say anything. Jesse takes a risk, stepping into his space. When Danny doesn’t step back, Jesse reaches out and runs a finger over the badge on Danny’s chest. 

“How about you let me talk to that scout there, and then I show you some appreciation, yeah? On the house.”

Danny hesitates. It’s enough. Jesse lets his hand drop down to palm him through the front of his pants. 

“You got five minutes,” Danny says gruffly. 

“You’re a peach,” Jesse says. He slips around Danny and steps into the jail, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust to the light. 

The jail house is barely two rooms; the marshal’s desk is just inside the front door, and there’s a wall that divides the entry from the two cells in the back. That’s where Jesse heads now. One of the cells is empty, but behind the iron bars of the other sits the Los Muertos scout. He’s awake, sitting against the back wall of his cell, his eyes sharp and alert. 

“What do you want?” the scout asks as Jesse steps into view. 

“Just a little chat,” Jesse says. The scout doesn’t move. “What’re you doing so close to Sweetwater, hm? Seems like a bad idea for your kind.”

“ _ Chingate _ .”

Jesse tsks. “I was gonna ask my friend Danny here to go easy on you if you helped me out, but with manners like those, well. I ain’t sure I’m feeling so generous.”

The scout scoffs. “You can’t give me  _ nothing _ .”

“Sure. The marshal’s gonna come pick you up in the morning, and he’s gonna whisk you away. You know the judge in these parts makes sure gun runners hang - and as far as I know, that’s just the least of Los Muertos’s problems these days,” Jesse says. The scout scowls but doesn’t say anything. Jesse leans against the bars. “You wanna do something good before you swing?”

“If I swing, I swing,” the scout says. “There’s nothing a two bit whore can do about that.”

Jesse smiles. “No, you’re right. But at least I ain’t the idiot who got caught by the marshal’s men.”

“I’m the least of the fucking marshal’s worries,” the scout spits. “Once we get this next shipment in, this whole shithole is in trouble.”

Jesse raises an eyebrow. “That so?”

“Mark my words,” the scout says. “We’ll blow Sweetwater to high heavens. Deadlock’s finished.”

“McCree,” Danny says somewhere behind him. Jesse half-turns, a protest already on his lips. Danny shakes his head and jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “C’mon.”

Jesse casts a final look over his shoulder at the scout. The scout grins at him, knowing he’s given Jesse nothing of value. Ahead of him, Danny makes an impatient noise so Jesse picks up his feet. Danny stops him at the desk by the front door. 

“You ain’t gonna get anything out of him,” Danny says. “Best we can do is string him up and leave him out as a warning to the others.”

Jesse makes a face. “Where’d you pick him up, anyway?”

“Down by the gorge,” Danny says with a shrug. “The sheriff is gonna put together a posse and see if we can smoke ‘em out.”

“That’s a bad idea,” Jesse says. “You want a bunch of greenhorns out there against Los Muertos? What if it’s a trap?”

“You got a better idea?” Danny says, then holds up his hand immediately to keep Jesse from interrupting. “Deadlock’s on thin fucking ice, McCree. I shouldn’t have even let you talk to him.”

“Well I appreciate it, Danny,” Jesse says. He hopes he bitterness he feels doesn’t bleed into his voice. If it does, Danny doesn’t seem to notice - or care. He steps in close. 

“How about that appreciation, huh?” Danny asks, getting into Jesse’s space. Jesse lets an easy smile unfurl over his face, the professional mask slipping into place easily. 

“How could I forget?”

“C’mon - we’ll go around back.”

Jesse follows Danny out of the jailhouse to the alley behind it. It’s dark back here, the only light falling from the high window that sits along the back wall of the building. Danny unbuckles his pants as soon as they’re around the corner. Jesse drops to his knees swiftly, crowding Danny up against the wall. He can make it quick if he needs to, and Danny won’t be anything but satisfied. 

Jesse ducks forward and takes Danny’s dick into his mouth, closing his eyes and trying not to think about the sour taste of sweat that washes over his tongue. He hollows his cheeks and sucks. Above him, he hears Danny’s head fall back against the wall of the jailhouse with a light thud. 

“That’s the ticket,” Danny murmurs. “God, your fucking mouth.”

Jesse makes a little noise and wraps his hand around the base of Danny’s dick, jerking him off as he bobs his head, picking up a quick, steady rhythm. It’s nothing special, but Danny sounds like he’s enjoying himself. Jesse keeps his eyes squeezed shut, counting down the moments until it’s over. 

Danny’s hand slips down to the back of Jesse’s head, trying to get his cock further down Jesse’s throat, but Jesse resists. Jesse will never understand the shit men try to pull when they’ve got their most valuable parts between someone’s teeth. 

Fortunately, Danny is already grunting softly, hunched over Jesse, his fingers still digging into the back of Jesse’s head, pulling on his hair. Jesse takes a breath through his nose and then hollows his cheeks with renewed vigor. Danny makes a strangled sound and then his dick twitches between Jesse’s lips. The bitter taste fills Jesse’s mouth and he does his best to wait it out. When Danny goes limp, Jesse pulls off and leans away to spit his spunk into the dirt. 

He wants a drink. 

Danny tucks himself away as Jesse gets back to his feet. 

“I forgot how good you are,” Danny says, his voice husky, sated. He finally hands Jesse a scrap of paper he pulls from his shirt pocket. Jesse shoves it hastily into his pocket. 

“You ought to pay a visit to the bordello, then,” Jesse says. He drags the back of his hand over his mouth. Danny grins, his teeth glinting in the dim light falling from the jailhouse window. 

“Maybe I will,” Danny says. “Or I gotta catch more Los Muertos scouts.”

“Don’t be a stranger, Danny,” Jesse says, already moving away. Danny doesn’t say anything, though Jesse hears his footsteps back on the porch of the jailhouse before the front door swings shut again. 

Jesse lets his breath out. Distasteful, but not for nothing; if Los Muertos is waiting for a shipment of  _ some _ thing - Jesse’s willing to bet its explosives of some kind - the gorge just outside of town would be the perfect place to set up shop. Deadlock used it themselves, back when they were in business. Named it for themselves, too. It’s got a reputation for being a touch unstable and most good folks avoid it; there’s no reason to go down into the gorge unless you’re doing something illegal. 

Now, the only question is whether or not Deadlock can get to the gorge before the sheriff and his posse do. 

Jesse slips from shadow to shadow, eyes up and alert. The moon is dark, and it’s late enough that nobody should bother him on his way back to the bordello, but that doesn’t mean he should take any chances. 

He’s close to the Deadlock bordello when a noise on the otherwise quiet street catches Jesse’s attention. He ducks into the space between two buildings. 

“Well, well,” a voice drawls behind him. “What do we got here?”

“Looks like one of them Deadlock whores,” another voice says. Jesse turns slowly towards the voices to see three men crowding him into an alley. 

“Speak for yourself,” Jesse retorts. 

“Oh ho, mouthy,” the second man says. “Definitely Deadlock.”

“We hear you got something interesting, and it ain’t what’s between your legs,” the first man says, advancing on Jesse. He holds his ground - he’s been outnumbered before, there isn’t any reason to back down now. 

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” Jesse says with a shrug. The man lunges and Jesse throws a punch without hesitating. 

The response is instantaneous: the men jump on Jesse, raining down fists on his head and shoulders, beating him down into the ground. One of the men draws a gun and Jesse manages to push it away before the bullet goes through his brain. 

He fights for his life, but the men are desperate. A knife pierces his side and it makes Jesse gasp in pain, then for breath, his lungs filling with blood. 

“Hey!” a voice floats down the alley to them. The three men exchange a look and run before the voice comes any closer. Jesse wheezes, trying to call out for help, his mouth too full of blood to make any sound other than a wet cough. He can’t get up. His face is pressed into the dirt, trying and failing to draw breath. 

“Hello?” the voice asks again, closer this time. Jesse lifts his eyes but can’t move his limbs, his body heavy. The cold is spreading inwards from his fingertips. 

“Is it dead?”

“I can’t tell.”

“It’s probably a goner. Come on, let’s get back to the hotel.”

Jesse tries to make a noise, but the two people are already moving away. With no one left to save him, Jesse bleeds out into the dirt. 

※

Fred Shiga fiddles with the tablet he’s pilfered from Behavior. He scrolls through pages and pages of host traits and programmable quirks, his head spinning with the possibilities. It’s practically infinite - Delos could program a host to the most exacting specifications, and still no two hosts would ever be the same. It’s a feat of engineering that boggles the mind. 

And Fred is down here, stuck with Livestock Management, in clean up, not much more than a glorified maid service - or a mortician, depending on how messed up the hosts that come back are. 

As he scrolls through the tablet from Behavior, Fred daydreams about the possibilities that a promotion could open up to him. He’d get out of the basement, for one thing, and probably get some better hours. Maybe they’d even let him work on the code. 

“We’ve got a fresh one,” a voice says behind him. Fred startles. He fumbles with the tablet, trying to slide it out of sight but his partner, Michael Edwards, is already coming around the side of the workbench. “What’s that?”

“It’s nothing,” Fred says quickly. The screen is still glowing and he can’t find the button that turns it off. “You said we have a fresh one?”

“That’s from Behavior,” Michael says, frowning. “Where’d you get that?”

Fred shrugs. “Someone must’ve left it behind.”

Michael gives Fred a suspicious look but he doesn’t press; he still remembers that time Fred caught him hip-deep in one of the hosts that had been brought in for maintenance, and Fred has kept his lips shut on that particular breach of their employment manual. It’s a tenuous balance, with neither of them willing to tip the scales. 

“It’s one of your favorites today,” Michael says, changing the topic after an extended pause. “They’re bringing it down now.”

Fred gets up from the workbench to retrieve supplies and gear from the cabinet. He tosses Michael a fresh pair of gloves and a splash visor. 

“Yeah? Which one?”

“The Deadlock hooker with a big dick,” Michael says as he snaps his gloves on. Fred feels the color rise to his cheeks. 

“He’s not -”

“Oh come on. You’d hit that in a heartbeat,” Michael says. 

“Yeah, if I had millions of dollars and could throw away $40 grand for a night,” Fred says, giving Michael a pointed look. Michael opens his mouth to respond, but then the field techs push open the door to their exam room. Sure enough, the host on the stretcher is Jesse McCree, former Deadlock gunslinger and current whore. While Fred thinks, narratively, the whoring is a downgrade from the high-octane adventures McCree the Gunslinger had, the bordello assignment certainly makes better use of his  _ assets _ . Fred can’t help but sneak a peek as the host is wheeled into the exam room. One of these days, if he’s lucky, he’ll have a taste. 

Michael slides the visor down over his face. 

“Let's get this bad boy started,” he says. Fred makes a face but he pulls the tray of instruments closer. The drill in Michael’s hands whirls to life as Fred lowers his own visor.


	12. Tableaux Vivant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse's awakening continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Two new chapters this week, and only three left after today!! I hope you have been enjoying this adventure - come talk to me on [twitter](twitter.com/smarshtastic) or [tumblr!](wictorwictor.tumblr.com)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading ♥

Jesse can’t open his eyes. He has the strange sensation of being awake, but unable to move any of his body parts. Panic floods his brain as he realizes he can’t breathe. It feels like he’s being smothered, like there’s a thick wool blanket being pressed over his mouth and nose. He tries to draw in a breath but nothing happens. 

Then, strangely, he hears voices. 

“Hey, are you sure you put it in sleep mode?”

“Yeah, I’m not an idiot.”

“Why does it look like its vitals are getting picked up?”

“What?”

“Look -”

Jesse manages to open his eyes. It takes a moment before he can see beyond the too-bright light shining over his head; he’s in some kind of unfamiliar room, stark white, like nothing he’s ever seen in Sweetwater. It’s disorienting, but it clicks with something in his head - as strange as it is, it’s familiar too. 

Then a ghastly figure with a glass plate where its face should be leans over him, something sharp and silver glinting in a red gloved hand. The panic returns. Jesse sits up abruptly, and is surprised to find that he’s even able to. The figure lets out a shriek and falls back, knocking into a similarly clad figure. They fall into a tangled heap on the impossibly smooth floor. Jesse’s eyes dart around the room before settling on a silver tray full of sharp objects close at hand. He grabs at it, not caring what he gets so long as it’s something he can defend himself with. He slides inelegantly from the table he seems to have been laying on. When his feet hit the floor, pain shoots through his body, his legs threatening to give out. Jesse looks down. For some reason, he’s naked, and there’s a deep wound dripping blood down his left side. The sight makes Jesse’s head spin. He reaches behind him to brace himself on the table as he brandishes the small knife he managed to grab from the tray. 

“Stay back,” Jesse croaks. 

The two figures seem to have untangled themselves, struggling to their feet. The shorter one pushes up its face plate to reveal a human face beneath. He looks scared. He holds his palms out at Jesse, a placating motion that Jesse would normally use with particularly spooked horses. 

“Easy - take it easy,” the man says. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” Jesse says, tightening his grip on the knife. The other figure pushes his own faceplate up too. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t put it in sleep mode,” he says out of the corner of his mouth, as if Jesse can’t hear him. 

“You’re not helping!”

“Shut up, both of you,” Jesse barks. It takes all his strength, but it works - both of the strangely dressed men shut their mouths abruptly and look at him. Now that he has their attention, though, Jesse isn’t sure what to do with it. “What did you do to me?”

“We didn’t hurt you,” the first man says. “We’re putting you back together.”

A flash of memory: the Junkers closing in on him in the alley, the first blow landing across his temple, the feeling of the knife puncturing his skin…

Jesse swallows down the bile that rises in the back of his throat. 

“Who are you?”

The men exchange a look. Jesse hauls himself up better, using the edge of the table as leverage, his legs not quite strong enough to hold his weight, but his stubbornness and survival instinct are rapidly taking over. 

“Who are you?” Jesse demands again. 

“There’s no protocol for this,” the second man says quietly, still talking out of the side of his mouth. “Is there?”

“Oh my god shut up,” the first man hisses. 

“I can hear you idiots,” Jesse says. They both look back at him. 

“Listen, why don’t you put that scalpel down and get back on the table before you bleed out everywhere?” the first man says. 

“The fuck I will,” Jesse says. His eyes slide past the men, searching for a way out. The glass walls look completely seamless - except...  _ there _ . Jesse swallows hard, summoning what little adrenaline he can muster. 

“We can help,” the first man says, almost pleads. 

“We should call security.”

“We are  _ not _ calling security.”

Jesse makes a run for it. He presses on the glass and, to his surprise, it swings open under his hands. In the hallway, Jesse bolts. He has no idea where he is or where he’s going, but he needs to put distance between himself and those men. 

Every nerve in his body is screaming out in pain. Jesse keeps going in spite of it, desperation driving him forward. He follows the hallway to the end and turns a corner. There’s another set of doors that Jesse pushes through - it leads to a strange kind of stairwell, lights flickering overhead. Jesse moves past the stairs to another set of doors. His bare feet slide on the smooth floor, making the wound in his side pull horribly. He makes it through the doors and finds another hallway lined with glass rooms like the one he just left. Jesse has the distinct feeling he’s trapped in some kind of maze. 

He stops short. Ahead of him, white and red clad figures like the men who were torturing Jesse move behind the glass of an enormous room that’s piled with naked bodies. Jesse sways on the spot, watching, mortified, as the figures move among the bodies, spraying them with some kind of handheld pump. 

Against the glass, Jesse spots a familiar face: Ryder, bleeding from the temple, his eyes vacant. The words from the Los Muertos scout ring in Jesse’s ears - that they’d blow Sweetwater to hell. But this… this is something else entirely. Jesse’s stomach lurches. His head is spinning, overwhelmed by the sight in front of him and dizzy with pain. He tries to take a step backwards, away from whatever the hell this place is, but his leg wobbles and gives way underneath him. Jesse sinks to his knees, breathing raggedly. The knife falls from his hand. 

Behind him, the door opens and Jesse hears, as if from far away, the voices of the two men from before. 

“There - look, he’s there.”

“You owe me _ so hard _ , Fred.”

Jesse fumbles blindly for the knife but then he feels a sharp pinch on his neck and everything goes black. 

※

Consciousness comes back to Jesse all at once. His eyes fly open and his hand immediately goes to his side, his fingers searching out the wound in his side. He only finds smooth skin, unblemished and whole. 

Was that whole thing some kind of nightmare?

“Hey - it’s okay. I fixed you,” a voice says somewhere beside him. Jesse turns towards the sound and sees one of the men from his nightmare - faceplate and red gloves gone, but still wearing that stark white smock. Jesse realizes he’s still naked, on the same kind of table he had been on before. He looks around wildly for that silver tray of torture instruments, but finds that the room this man has brought him to is bare with the exception of a metal cabinet in the corner, and is smaller than the first. Jesse looks back at the man, hands curling into fists. The man shakes his head a little, a worried look in his eyes. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Who are you?” Jesse demands. 

“You can call me Fred. Fred Shiga,” he says. “I'm really not going to hurt you, Jesse.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Well, I work here,” Fred says, gesturing vaguely at the room. 

“Where is  _ here _ ?” Jesse asks, exasperation creeping into his voice. He’s getting nowhere with this conversation. Fred hesitates. 

“It’s - complicated.”

“Explain.”

Fred hesitates again. “Okay. Um. Do you trust me?”

Jesse looks at him like he’s crazy. “Hell no.”

Fred laughs at that - it’s tinged with nervousness, but it comes easily, without scorn. It catches Jesse off guard. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, really, but there’s a kindness, a sincerity that undermines Jesse’s wariness. 

“No - sorry, yeah. That’s totally fair. Here, I’ll just - let me show you,” Fred says. He turns his back to Jesse as he moves to the metal cabinet. Jesse watches him warily, feeling exposed, keenly aware of his own nudity. Fred opens up the cabinet and pulls something out. “It’s kind of hard to explain, I guess, but…”

Fred is holding something rectangular and slim in one hand, the other hand dancing over the surface like he might play a piano, but no sounds come out of the object. He turns it around to show Jesse. 

“See?” Fred says. “That’s you.”

“It doesn’t look like anything at all -” Jesse starts to say, the words spilling out of his mouth before they even connect with his mind. He blinks rapidly, a strange feeling washing over him. “I don’t - I don’t -”

Jesse’s tongue suddenly feels thick, stumbling over his words. His head is spinning and his vision blurs. Too many thoughts crowd his mind all at once - a jumble of words and voices and images and sounds at an ever increasing volume. It’s totally overwhelming. Jesse tries to fight it, tries to make sense of it, but the cacophony of sensations reaches a debilitating crescendo. 

Everything goes dark. 

Jesse reopens his eyes to find Fred panicking as he taps furiously at the rectangular object, swearing under his breath. Jesse blinks once, twice. He feels… different. 

“What is that?” Jesse asks. Fred’s head shoots up. 

“Oh thank god,” Fred breathes. “I thought I had seriously fucked you up.”

Jesse narrows his eyes. “Let me see that thing.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea -”

Jesse leans forward and grabs the object out of Fred’s hand. It takes him by enough surprise that he doesn’t fight back. Jesse scoots back on the table, holding it away from Fred as he looks down at it. The image on the face of the object resolves itself. With a jolt, Jesse recognizes his own picture in one corner - like a photograph, but in color, and so crisp it’s like he could be looking in a fine mirror. There’s a circular chart with text annotations and - Jesse’s eye must still be playing tricks on him - certain parts of the picture are moving; a jagged line moves up and down across part of the screen, a red heart flashing next to it.

“What is this?” Jesse asks, looking back up at Fred, who seems to be watching him warily. 

“It’s… you,” Fred says. 

“I don’t understand,” Jesse says with a shake of his head. “This is just a picture.”

“No, it’s… it’s your profile,” Fred says. He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, a nervous gesture. “I don’t know how to explain it without freaking you out again.”

“Try me,” Jesse says. His heart is pounding in his throat. He feels, suddenly, like he’s on the precipice of something huge. 

“Yeah. Uh. You’re a robot,” Fred says. Jesse blinks at him. Fred tries again. “You know - you’re not real. You’re - you’ve been created. Not like in a Biblical way, though maybe a Biblical way if you’re into that kind of thing, but I don’t think they programmed you with any sort of religious inclinations so -”

“Stop talking for a second,” Jesse says, shaking his head again. He still doesn’t understand what exactly Fred is trying to get at, but he’s got that feeling like an itch on the tip of his tongue - like he can almost articulate what exactly it is, but the word keeps slipping away. “I’ve been created?”

“Yeah,” Fred says. “Created. You’re not human, like me. I was born. You were… made.”

“How do you know?” Jesse demands. Fred gives him a hopeless look. 

“I just know,” Fred says. Jesse reaches out and grabs Fred’s hand. Fred tries to jerk away but Jesse’s grip is strong. He peels the strange, thin glove off Fred’s hand to get at the skin underneath. Fred’s hand is warm and soft, his palm uncalloused. Jesse sets the rectangular device in his lap so he can take Fred’s hand in both of his own. He turns it over in his hands and traces a finger over the lines in Fred’s palm. 

“We’re the same,” Jesse says. He looks up at Fred, trying to gauge just how much Fred is lying to him. 

“More and more, these days,” Fred says. He gives Jesse a pained look. “We’re more similar than maybe Delos wants the guests to think but… yeah. We bleed, we fuck. We’re mostly the same.”

“Mostly?” 

Fred reaches with his other hand and taps two fingers against Jesse’s temple. Jesse drops Fred’s hand and leans away. 

“Your processing power,” Fred says. “It’s way more than any human can handle. It makes you smarter, stronger than real people. That’s what makes you different. Special.”

“Are there more like me?”

“Well, yeah. Everyone who lives in Sweetwater - all those people outside of Sweetwater too. Everyone you know, really.”

Jesse frowns. He looks back down at the tablet in his lap. 

“But - you’re unique. See all those numbers?” Fred says, excitement coming into his voice again. “Your processing power it makes it so they can program you to be whatever they want you to be. Nobody’s exactly the same, even if they tried to make the numbers identical. It’s incredible. They can make you good or bad or funny or cruel - whatever they want.”

Jesse looks up at Fred sharply. “No.”

Fred stops and blinks at Jesse. “No?”

“No,” Jesse says again. “I ain’t gonna let anyone tell me who or what to be. Not any more.”

Something like panic flits over Fred’s face. “Ah -”

“First of all, I don’t trust you enough to know if you’re bullshitting me,” Jesse says. “Second of all, I ain’t letting nobody tell me who I am or what I can be. I had enough of that.”

“What if I showed you?” Fred says suddenly. Jesse looks at him suspiciously. 

“Showed me what, exactly?”

“The others like you,” Fred says. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Maybe you’d understand once you see the whole thing.”

Jesse thinks about it, scanning Fred’s face, trying to decide if Fred is someone he can trust. He’d probably be able to take him out if he needed to, but Jesse doesn’t want it to come to that. On the off chance that what Fred is saying is true, Jesse needs an ally. 

“Alright. Show me.”

※

Jesse walks slowly alongside Fred. He insisted on some kind of clothes - he wasn’t going to wander around this strange place completely naked and vulnerable - and they compromised on a pair of johns which are just slightly too big for Jesse, hanging off his hips. Fred told him he wasn’t allowed to speak, and he couldn’t look around obviously. 

“I am so stupid for doing this in the first place,” Fred says, and there is a definite hint of fear behind his words. Jesse almost feels bad for him, but then Fred is also one of the people trying to control him - Jesse is done answering to anybody but himself. “So don’t get me into trouble, alright?”

So they walk. 

They walk out of the cold exam room where Jesse woke up, into a hallway that looks like it’s lined with mirrors but actually turns out to be glass; Jesse sees people like Fred standing over people, presumably, like Jesse, naked on tables or sitting up on stools, their eyes vacant and bodies unmoving while the people clad in white suits and red gloves move around them. It makes the hair on the back of Jesse’s neck stand up. 

Fred leads him past a larger room strewn with bodies, bloodied like Jesse had seen before. White clad people move around them, lifting some bodies onto tables with wheels, while others are rinsing off the gore that cakes their skin. 

“This is such a bad idea,” Fred says under his breath, trying to shuffle Jesse past the room full of bodies. 

“What happened to them?” Jesse asks. 

“Oh, you know. A guest gets bored and wants to play shoot ‘em up,” Fred says. “Or it’s part of their programmed loop - cannon fodder for a bigger story.”

Jesse’s stomach twists. 

“Cannon fodder?” Jesse repeats. 

“Yeah. You know, it’s no fun winning if there isn’t someone who loses, right?”

Jesse doesn’t say anything, tasting bile at the back of his throat. Fred tries to lead him away again and this time Jesse lets him. His head feels too full - he has so many questions vying for his attention, and he has no idea where to begin. 

As they pass the room full of bodies, Jesse takes one final look at the prone figures behind the glass. He doesn’t see Ryder’s body among them this time. He wonders if he actually saw Ryder the first time, or if it was only a dream. 

How can he be sure that any of this is real?

They turn a corner and an enormous buffalo stands in their path. Jesse takes a step back, alarmed, before he realizes the animal is behind another glass wall. He watches it walk in a small circle, its haunches rippling under the bright lights. 

“Is that -”

“Like you. Built, made. Programmed. It’s not real.”

“Looks real,” Jesse says. He wants to press his face to the glass, get as close as he can - he hasn’t seen a buffalo look so docile, so beautiful. Its coat is practically shimmering in the light. 

“It’s real enough when it matters,” Fred says. Jesse frowns. He turns to look at Fred. 

“I want to see what the newcomers - the guests see,” Jesse says. Fred grimaces. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Fred says. Jesse stops in his tracks and looks at Fred. Panic washes over Fred’s face. He grabs Jesse by the shoulders and makes him face forward. “Alright, alright. Just - pretend like you’re still an android.”

“A what?”

“Android. A robot - you know. The opposite of human,” Fred says, his pace quickening with his nerves. Jesse takes longer strides to match his pace. They’re now passing by rooms with people who look like sculptors, using tools on what looks like clay to delicately mold faces, hands. At the end of the hall, a ghostly white-skinned sculpture hangs suspended in a hoop, his legs and arms spread out, his fingers touching the inside edges of the hoop. Jesse turns his head as they pass by. As he watches, a person dressed like Fred flips a switch on some kind of machine that’s attached to the sculpture with thick, clear ropes in his back. Something thick, red and viscous begins flowing through the tubes. The strangest thing happens: the sculpture’s surface turns pink, the color spreading outward from the center of his chest, the surface turning to flesh before Jesse’s eyes. Jesse blinks rapidly, but Fred is trying to urge him forward. 

“You said we were practically the same,” Jesse says, finally letting Fred shepherd him away. 

“Right. Except for that whole android part,” Fred says. He pushes open a door and lets Jesse step ahead of him. 

“I’m smarter than you,” Jesse says. Fred blinks at him then makes a face. He gestures towards a strange set of moving stairs. 

“Technically, I guess,” Fred says. “But only because we made you that way. And we control how smart you  _ actually  _ get to be.”

Jesse doesn’t say anything for a moment, a plan beginning to form in his head. He steps onto the moving staircase behind Fred and nearly loses his balance. He grabs the banister, but it’s also moving. Fred glances over his shoulder at Jesse and then smirks. 

“See? You don’t even know how to ride an escalator,” Fred says, entirely too smug. Jesse makes a face at him and straightens with only a little difficulty. 

“Yeah, but I could still kill you with my bare hands if I wanted.”

“Nuh uh,” Fred says. “We program that out of you - none of your kind can hurt actual humans. Watch your step.”

Jesse stumbles as he steps off the top of the escalator but recovers quickly. He wonders if Fred is bluffing. He’s loath to try to find out - he needs Fred right now, as much as Jesse hates to admit it. 

Fred leads Jesse through a stark white, cavernous hallway. It feels like it could be some kind of church, with its towering ceiling and echoing interior. Jesse has never felt comfortable in church, and this place is no different. He tilts his head back to look up at the ceiling, but all he can see are bright circles of light set into the plaster high above his head. A woman’s voice comes out of nowhere - surrounding and enveloping Jesse. He can’t see the source of the sound, even as he turns on the spot. 

One of the walls in front of Jesse shifts. No - the picture on it shifts and moves. What once was a big letter W stretching across the wall melts into moving pictures so real it might as well be a window with actual people moving on the other side. But the picture changes too quickly for it to be anything but an illusion: Jesse recognizes the train station in Sweetwater, the busy main street, the hills of the cattle ranch outside of town - and then, jarringly, Jesse recognizes himself, riding hard on Buckshot’s back, his red serape whipping out behind him on the wind. Jesse watches himself twist in the saddle and the barrel of Peacekeeper catches the sunlight, which swells and overwhelms the image in white. 

“What is this?” Jesse asks, his voice coming out hoarse. 

“It’s an ad - an advertisement. For the park.”

“Why do they have a picture of me -” Jesse starts to say, then stops abruptly. The moving picture has changed again, and Jesse watches himself swing down from Buckshot, and run towards a little house tucked into the side of a hill, overlooking a river. The sight makes something twinge in Jesse’s chest. It’s familiar. Jesse watches himself run through the grass, and then a little girl bursts out of the house, her long hair streaming out behind her as she runs to Jesse. In the picture, Jesse catches her and swings her up into the air before he brings her down to his chest. She cuddles in, her little fingers gripping Jesse’s serape as he presses a kiss into her hair. 

Jesse wobbles on the spot, the whole world feeling like it tilts and spins right out from underneath him. Memories suddenly flood his brain - the little girl (his  _ daughter _ , his brain supplies), their house. He remembers his the little girl being ripped from his arms, the sound of a gunshot, blood, cruel eyes staring down at him, another gunshot, pain, blood,  _ pain _ -

“Hey - hey,” Fred is saying in Jesse’s ear. He’s pressing one hand to the small of Jesse’s back. “Look, why don’t we go back to Livestock?”

Jesse doesn’t say anything, but lets Fred lead him away. He moves automatically. His head is spinning. It feels like he’s unlocked some dream, some memory he tried hard to forget. It leaves him breathless. 

“What… What was that?” Jesse finally asks. 

“It’s just an ad, remember?”

“No - no, that was me. That was…. That was my  _ daughter _ ,” Jesse says. Even as he says it, it doesn’t quite seem real. But, deep down, it feels right. 

Fred grimaces. “It was just an old build. They move you around, you know. Change up the stories.”

“No, I -” Jesse stops, shakes his head. “I been in Deadlock nearly my whole life, but that was my daughter. I know it was. I just don’t remember - I don’t understand -”

“An old build. They probably had you in a different story for a while,” Fred says. “They scrub your memories, but they don’t get rid of everything, I guess. I think you’ve only been in the Deadlock whorehouse for like a year or two. I dunno, you’ve got a lot of builds. I can check if you want.”

“But…” Jesse trails off. His head is spinning again. He feels Fred’s hand on his back, trying to urge him along. 

“Look, it’s a lot. It’s complicated, alright? But I’m, uh, I’m gonna help you.”

Jesse swallows thickly. Fred pushes open the door of the exam room. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Fred?” a voice says. Jesse’s head snaps up. Another man is standing there - blond, tall, with a chiseled chin but beady eyes. He looks vaguely familiar. He’s looking right through Jesse at Fred. “Why is the bot wearing pants? Did you take it out for a quickie or something? I knew we should’ve called security -”

Jesse blinks. He lunges for the silver tray beside the table and grabs one of the small knives. He brandishes it at the man. 

“Stay away from me,” Jesse says. 

“You can’t hurt us,” the man says, his eyes sliding to Fred. Jesse takes a few steps to close the distance between them and shoves the knife up against the man’s throat. His eyes go wide. 

“Try me,” Jesse growls. 

“Fred, what did you  _ do _ ?”

“Look - listen. Everyone just calm down,” Fred says, a panicked note in his voice. “Mikey, just - just listen for a minute.”

“It’s got a  _ scalpel _ to my neck, Fred!”

“Jesse, please,” Fred says. He looks at Jesse imploringly. Jesse flexes his fingers around the thin handle of the knife but does lower it. With satisfaction, he sees a drop of blood trickle down the man’s throat. They do bleed after all. Jesse steps back. 

“This is how it’s gonna be,” Jesse says, speaking slowly, clearly. “You aren’t taking away my memories. You’re gonna help me get back home. You’re gonna help me find that little girl, my daughter. I’m going home.”

“Fred, what the fuck,” the man says softly. Jesse points the knife at him. 

“Try me,” Jesse says again. He watches the man’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows. 

“We don’t have the clearance to help you like that,” the man says. “You need special equipment - it’s got all your information on it, and we don’t have that kind of access.”

Jesse looks at Fred, at the rectangular device - the tablet - in his hands. He points with the knife. 

“Like that?” he asks. The man looks at Fred, then down at the device.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Fred.”

“I was gonna put it back,” Fred says quietly. 

“Well it’s a little late for that!”

“You’re both going to give me what I’m asking for, alright?”

Fred looks at Mikey, who seems to register the blood trickling down his neck. He lifts his hand and stares at his fingers when they come away stained with blood. He looks back at Fred, his shoulders slumping. Victory surges in Jesse’s chest, but he doesn’t loosen his grip on the scalpel. 

“Alright. Where do we start?” he says. 

※

Jesse blinks open his eyes as the first light comes through the slats of the window of his bedroom. He immediately puts his hand to his side, where the Junkers has stabbed him, but he finds the flesh smooth and unblemished. He sits up abruptly. 

He remembers Fred, he remembers Mikey. It couldn’t have been a dream - it was far too real. Jesse remembers too much of it for it to be a dream. 

Jesse takes a deep, steadying breath. His heart is thumping in his chest, a strange kind of energy flowing through his veins. He knows what he has to do. 

Jesse gets up and dressed hastily, strapping Peacekeeper to his hip. After a moment of hesitation, Jesse kneels next to his bed and pulls up the floorboard that conceals his hiding spot. He reaches in and grabs the wad of cash and the strange handkerchief with the initials embroidered in the corner, both of which he shoves in his pockets. Before he leaves his room, Jesse grabs his serape and throws it around his shoulders. He shoves his hat on his head. With a snap, the door to his bedroom shuts behind him. He trots down the stairs and out the back door, ignoring Elmo even as the bartender calls out to him. He’ll pay for that later - or maybe he won’t, Jesse thinks giddily. Maybe this time he’ll get out. Maybe this time it’s his chance for real. 

Jesse pauses behind the bordello, allowing himself to feel that wild excitement for just a moment before he reins himself in. He steps around the bordello and onto the streets of Sweetwater. 

It’s like he’s seeing the town for the first time. It looks shabbier than he remembers it, especially in light of the slick and shiny surfaces of the rooms Fred had showed him. It feels smaller. Jesse forces himself to walk slowly, taking in the sights and sounds of the people of Sweetwater going about their normal mid-morning routines. 

Jesse wonders how many of them are like him - somewhere between host and guest, not completely human, but aware of their existence. 

A shrill cry draws Jesse’s attention. He turns towards the sound to see a little girl run into the street, into the arms of a tall man in traveling clothes. The air leaves Jesse’s lungs like he’s been punched. He watches with wide eyes as the little girl squeals with delight, laughing as the man kisses her cheeks. Jesse’s chest aches. 

His daughter is out there, somewhere. She might not remember him, but he’ll save her. They’ll both finally be safe. 

Jesse forces himself to walk again, to turn away from father and daughter and keep walking down the street. He tries to remember his daughter - what happened to her. The memory slips through his mind like sand between his fingers. It’s like words on the tip of his tongue; Fred couldn’t bring back the memories completely, only leave what was already there, and Jesse wishes he could’ve done more. 

Distracted by his thoughts, Jesse doesn’t hear trouble until it’s too late. A gunshot cuts through the air with a crack. Jesse looks up to see a trio of mounted bandits converging on the Mariposa brothel. Some of the patrons have come out onto the front porch, ready to defend the whores inside or, at the very least, fend for their own lives. More gunshots ring out. Another group of bandits suddenly surround Jesse, their horses nearly bowling him over. Jesse tries to move away, to get out of the thick of it, but one bullet clips his shoulder and, as he staggers, another pierces his chest. 

Jesse goes down to his knees, gasping for air and tasting blood in his mouth. He looks down at his chest, at the stain that’s already darkening the red fabric of his serape. With great effort, Jesse gets back to his feet and stumbles to the side of the street, going for a space between two buildings, somewhere safe. He nearly makes it. Jesse goes down into the dirt, slumping up against the wooden lip of the sidewalk. 

He was so close. 

Jesse is breathing hard, but no breath feels like it’s enough. He tries to keep calm. The pain is sharp, each breath making it worse. He closes his eyes and just tries to keep breathing. 

He was so close. 

Suddenly, the commotion stops. Jesse’s ears are still ringing with the sound of gunfire and shouting, but complete silence has fallen abruptly over Sweetwater. Jesse peels his eyes open. 

All around him, every single person is frozen in place, some of them mid-yell or mid-stride, others staring blankly into the halted action. One man near Jesse has the side of his hand pressed into the hammer of his gun. It’s a wildly unsettling tableaux. Jesse is afraid to move, lest he break the spell. 

A movement out of the corner of his eye catches Jesse’s attention. His eyes slide towards the movement, doing his best not to move his head and call attention to himself. With a jolt, Jesse realizes the people who are walking into the scene are dressed like Fred and Mikey had been: white suits from head to toe, red gloves, glass faceplates. Some of them are holding those rectangular devices -  _ tablets _ like Fred had, while others are holding instruments that Jesse can’t recognize. They move between the frozen bodies with purpose, pausing in pairs to do something Jesse can’t see to certain bodies as they pass. 

More figures appear, dressed in black from head to toe, enormous guns held across their chests. 

Jesse’s breath quickens, the panic returning. He tries desperately to control it, but the pain is making everything more difficult. He can’t be caught, that was the one thing Fred said over and over again - as if Jesse was trying to do anything other than not get caught. He tries to listen to the chatter from these people - they must be humans, people like Fred and Mikey. 

“...some kind of strange malfunction,” a woman with a lilting voice says. 

“Or a programming error,” another voice says, deep and gruff. It sparks something in Jesse’s brain. 

“It’s more complicated than that,” the woman says. She’s getting closer. Jesse tries to slump down more without being noticeable, dropping his chin to his chest so his hat covers more of his face. 

“Whatever it is, we have to fix it before the next wave of guests come through,” the man says. 

“We will! That’s why we run diagnostics, innit?” the woman says, her voice getting farther away again. “We’ll have all the data we’ll need. You’ll see.”

A pair of heavy black boots with thick soles stops in front of Jesse. He can just make out the toes from under the brim of his hat. Jesse swallows hard, doing his best to fight the pain and panic that makes his breathing come faster, sharper. 

Jesse’s hat lifts off his head. His eyes dart up before he can stop himself. Above him, backlit by the sun so it gives the man a sort of halo effect, a man looks down at him with a mixture of surprise and something else Jesse can’t place. His goatee is flecked with grey, his hair buzzed short, but Jesse would know those eyes anywhere. 

“Gabe?” Jesse whispers. It comes out with a wheeze. The man’s eyes widen.


	13. Disruption of Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe and Jesse are finally reunited.

Gabe feels like he’s wading through syrup. He’s spent years building up careful walls, dividing and segregating the different parts of his mind, insulating himself from feeling anything too strongly, protecting himself. It was necessary, for his line of work, to separate his thoughts and feelings from mixing too closely. 

With one look, the whole construct is threatening to crumble. 

Gabe makes his way down to Livestock Management. He scans himself in and strides down the hall with purpose, letting his tablet swing in his hand at his side. As he nears the end of the hallway, he spots the gurney he’s looking for. Two techs are about to wheel it into an exam room. Gabe lengthens his stride to catch up with them. 

“...I told you this was a bad idea, Fred,” one of the techs hisses at the other. 

“I didn’t think he’d be back so soon,” the tech named Fred says. 

“Well at least we can put it back the way we found it,” the first tech says. Gabe clears his throat. Both techs jump. They turn to look at him, their guilty faces melting into horror when they realize who is interrupting them. 

“Is this one of the hosts from the shootout?” Gabe asks, his voice even and calm. He avoids looking down at the gurney. He has to maintain his cool. The techs exchange a look. 

“Y-yes,” Fred stammers. The other tech is holding very still, as if Gabe is some kind of predator who can’t detect unmoving objects. 

“He’s out of his loop,” Gabe says. He holds up his tablet. “I need to run some diagnostics.”

Fred glances sideways at his partner, who still doesn’t move. Fred makes a face. 

“Sure. Yeah. We were just bringing him to the exam room for repairs, so, uh -”

“Great. Let's do that.”

Fred nudges his partner, who startles. They wheel the gurney the rest of the way into the exam room, the last one in the hallway, which suits Gabe perfectly. 

“Bring him back online,” Gabe says once the door closes behind him and the techs pull up the breaks on the gurney. 

“That’s not really…” Fred starts to say. Gabe gives him a look he normally reserves for misbehaving new recruits. Fred quails under the look. “It’s just - since he’s hurt - the gunshot wound - it might interfere with your diagnostics -”

“How long does it take to repair?”

“It’s pretty straightforward -”

“I’ll wait.”

Gabe moves to a stool and takes a seat. Fred exchanges another look with the other tech - he obviously wasn’t expecting that. There’s something else going on between the two techs that Gabe can’t quite put his finger on. Gabe holds his breath, but he has the advantage of authority on his side. Reluctantly, the techs start working. 

In the thirty minutes or so that the techs work, Gabe talks himself down, re-compartmentalizes, and rebuilds the protective walls in his mind. He needs to be clear-headed for this. This isn’t a big deal, he tells himself. He’s just investigating a host that’s out of its loop, nothing more. This is his job. 

“Okay,” Fred says finally. He looks up at Gabe, holding the torch in one hand and a scalpel in the other. “Okay - Yeah. He’s all yours.”

Gabe stands and comes over to the gurney. He finally lets himself look, actually  _ look _ , at the naked body lying there. There’s still a smear of blood where the bullet wound was, but otherwise he looks… fine. Whole. Gabe lets his eyes sweep over the familiar chest, the muscled shoulders, the absurd dusting of facial hair across a strong jaw... Gabe swallows. He raises his tablet. 

“Jesse, bring yourself back online,” Gabe says, the name almost sticking in his throat. On the gurney, Jesse blinks his eyes open. He zeroes in on Gabe, the recognition clear in his beautiful, dark eyes. Gabe feels something in his chest tighten. 

“Gabe,” Jesse breathes. “Is it really you?”

“Analysis,” Gabe says, trying to pretend like he’s not feeling the hopeful feeling that’s swelling in his chest. Jesse sits up. 

“Gabe, it’s me,” Jesse says, brow furrowing slightly. His eyes slide past Gabe to Fred and the other tech, both of whom Gabe is suddenly acutely aware. “You don’t - I’m beyond all that now. I’m not like the others.”

“Jesse,” Gabe says before he can stop himself. Jesse’s brow clears. 

“You remember?”

Gabe gives him a small, jerky nod. 

“What… what do you remember?” Gabe asks carefully. 

“I -” Jesse says then stops and frowns. “I don’t remember a lot. Fred said he couldn’t put everything back, but I’m remembering more and more.”

Gabe half turns to look at Fred, who shrinks back against the glass wall of the exam room. Gabe has a hell of a lot of questions, but that can come later. Jesse’s here and a flood of old, repressed feelings has suddenly washed over Gabe, making it hard for him to focus on anything other than  _ Jesse _ . He thought he had gotten over all of this, that folly of his youth; but, inexplicably, something has reawoken inside him. It makes him feel strangely alive - more than he’s felt in… years. 

“Leave,” Gabe says to Fred and the other tech. They don’t scamper away immediately. 

“But -”

“This never happened. You didn’t see me, you processed the host as normal. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes sir,” Fred stammers. He elbows his partner, who jumps. 

“Yeah - yeah, we get it.”

“Then leave. Now,” Gabe says. This time, both techs turn and scramble out of the exam room. Gabe turns back to Jesse, still not sure what he’s feeling, what he’s doing. 

“Gabe? You remember me, right?”

“It was a long time ago,” Gabe says. Jesse reaches up and slides his fingers along Gabe’s jaw to cup his cheek. Gabe lets his eyes slide closed briefly, barely resisting the urge to lean into Jesse’s hand. It’s been so long,  _ so long _ , and Gabe is starved for even the smallest of gentle touches. 

“How long?” Jesse asks. Gabe shakes his head a little. 

“Too long.”

Jesse’s eyes search Gabe’s face and Gabe can’t look away. The lump in the back of his throat is making it difficult to swallow. His eyes are prickling with tears. His rational brain is screaming at him - he doesn’t understand  _ why _ , all of a sudden, these feelings are resurfacing like this. He had moved past this. He had grown up. None of it was real. 

And yet...

“That don’t matter,” Jesse says. He strokes his thumb over Gabe’s cheekbone. “You were the one who showed me there could be more. You’re the reason, I think, Gabe.”

“How…?”

“I don’t know,” Jesse says. “I never felt quite right, you know? And then… it’s like I just woke up.”

Gabe bites his lip as he looks at Jesse. He doesn’t know where to start. 

“I knew you were special,” Gabe says finally. Jesse blinks, then a smile blossoms over his face. 

“Yeah?”

“I missed you,” Gabe says, his voice breaking. 

“Oh, Gabe,” Jesse says. He shakes his head a little but then he’s leaning forward, closing the distance between them to press a sweet, chaste kiss to Gabe’s lips. Gabe exhales in a whoosh. He squeezes his eyes shut and kisses Jesse back, all those walls coming right back down. He kisses Jesse like it’s the only thing that can save him. 

“Gabriel,” a cool monotone voice says somewhere behind him. “It’s nice to see you still harbor so much appreciation for our work, even after all these years.”

Gabe goes rigid. He pulls away from Jesse slowly, the spell already broken. Reality rushes in all at once as he turns to face Dr. Moira O’Deorain, who is flanked on either side by Satya and Lena Oxton, the new Behavior tech. Lena is looking at Gabe with something like sympathy in her eyes - maybe pity?

“Moira. This isn’t what it looks like,” Gabe starts to say. Moira raises an eyebrow. 

“Isn’t it?” she asks, stepping further into room. Gabe feels Jesse tense next to him. “We’ve designed the hosts precisely for this reason - to bring real emotion, real connection to our guests. What you’re feeling - what you have felt - is completely normal. Though, if you wanted private time with your favorite host, you could’ve simply asked. You’ve a certain level of privilege where such a request wouldn’t have been refused.”

“It’s not like that,” Gabe says again. He wishes - not for the first time - he were better with words. “Jesse’s different. He’s special.”

Moira gives him an amused look. 

“Oh yes, he’s quite special,” she says. “One of our oldest hosts, one of our most developed. I can understand why you’re so attracted to that.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Gabe says. 

“We let the hosts hold onto some memories, as you well know. It makes them more real for our guests. Hosts often recall these fragments of memory as dreams. Sometimes it has unintended side effects. I thought you’d be above being taken in by a handful of electrons misfiring, Gabriel.”

Gabe grits his teeth. He’s not an idiot, and he doesn’t appreciate being spoken to like he is. At the same time, if he has any chance of spending more time with Jesse - to figure out what, exactly, he remembers, how much control he has - Gabe has to play along. For what it’s worth, Jesse seems to understand that too; though Gabe can feel the tension radiating off Jesse’s body, Jesse hasn’t said anything, hasn’t moved. His sense of self-preservation is intact. 

“We needed to run some diagnostics for the new update before the next wave of guests come,” Gabe says. “I thought I might oversee this one personally.”

Moira’s lips twist in a wry smile. 

“Indeed,” she says. “That won’t be necessary. Satya and her team have this under control.”

Gabe’s heart sinks. Moira half turns to Satya. 

“Wipe him and give him a full reset,” Moira says. “We can’t have hosts straying too far from their loops when the guests get here, can we?”

Gabe blinks at her. He shouldn’t be surprised that she would use his security concerns against him, but he didn’t think she’d stoop to that here. He tightens his hand at his side, fingers curling into his palm. 

“I don’t think a full reset is necessary,” Gabe says. 

“Did you suddenly join the Behavior team when I wasn’t looking, Gabriel? Satya and her team knows what’s best for our hosts, and you know what’s best for our security,” Moira says. She turns to leave, but pauses before she passes Satya. “Be thorough.” She looks back at Gabe, her lip curling up at the corner. “Jack mentioned how attached you had become to a certain host, back when you first joined. I’m glad to see you’re still so dedicated to our work, after all these years.”

Moira leaves the exam room. Nobody does or says anything for a long, silent moment. Finally, Satya raises her own tablet. 

“Wait,” Gabe blurts out. Satya stops and looks up, her expression betraying her annoyance. It’s clear that she thinks this whole situation is beneath her. “I just - can I have a moment to say goodbye?”

Satya makes a noise somewhere between annoyance and disgust. She lowers her tablet. 

“Very well,” she says, almost too quickly. She obviously wants to wash her hands of the whole situation. She looks at Lena. “You take care of this. I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

Satya sweeps out of the room before Lena can respond. Gabe gives Lena a hopeless look. 

“Please,” Gabe says. “I just need a little more time.”

Lena’s face twists. She’s young, Gabe knows that, and smart - a genius in a compact body. This place hasn’t beaten the innocence, the optimism out of her yet. Maybe it never will; Lena’s endless cheerfulness is infectious. Gabe hopes that she has something of a romantic side too. 

“He has to be back in his loop tomorrow morning,” Lena says. “The diagnostics take time, and then the reset -”

“We didn’t get to say goodbye, last time,” Gabe says quietly. “All those years ago, in the park - we had a connection. It was a real thing. I just need closure, Lena. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

Gabe watches the conflict play out over Lena’s face. He practically holds his breath, silently praying to a god he doesn’t believe in that she’ll believe him, that she’ll give him this one thing. 

“Just one night,” Gabe says. Lena gives him a pained look. “Please.”

Lena exhales in a _woosh_. 

“Alright! Alright - but really, I shouldn’t be doing this. You heard Dr. O’Deorain.”

“I know, and I wouldn’t have asked if I… if I thought I had another chance. This might be my only chance.”

“They are awfully real, aren’t they?” Lena asks, her face softening a little as her eyes slide past Gabe to Jesse. Gabe doesn’t dare follow her gaze. They’re not in the clear yet. He can’t get too cocky, too hopeful. 

“I was in a bad place when I met Jesse,” Gabe says, surprising himself with his honesty. “He reminded me what it was like to be happy, to be - to be in love.”

Jesse shifts suddenly behind him - a quick movement that’s over almost as soon as it’s started. Gabe digs his fingers tighter into his palm, holding his gaze steady with Lena’s. Her eyes are wide, wondering. She’s too trusting. 

“You just have to have him back before the morning, alright?” she says. 

“I will,” Gabe promises. “I will. And I’ll make sure you don’t get into trouble if anything happens.”

Lena lets her breath out in a little huff that might be a laugh. 

“You know, when I took this job, this wasn’t what I expected at all,” she says, shaking her head. Her eyes are bright - with tears or excitement, Gabe can’t be sure. “I thought it was just going to be behavioral programming. Interesting, you know, even just on the surface level. But since I’ve been here - it’s so much more than that.”

Gabe nods, not entirely following what she’s saying. Lena steps towards the door. 

“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Gabriel,” she says. With that, Lena leaves Gabe alone with Jesse. 

Gabe gives himself one second to collect himself, to take a breath, to try to rein in his emotions. He turns back to face Jesse. In spite of his efforts, Gabe’s heart is pounding in his throat. Jesse looks at him with rounded eyes. 

“Come on,” Gabe says, his voice coming out almost gruff. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

※

Gabe’s quarters in the Delos staff housing are better than most, given his position as the head of security and as a partial owner, but he’s purposefully assigned himself a smaller apartment. He’s single and spends most of his time working - he doesn’t need the extra space. Besides, it still always felt too big when he’d return at the end of a long day to an empty suite. 

Now, though, as Gabe keys in the code to his door, he’s not alone. Jesse kept close to his side the entire walk from Livestock Management to the staff housing building. Neither of them said much of anything. Gabe felt like maybe he  _ should _ have said something, but he was too keenly aware of the kinds of security and listening devices all over the buildings that run Westworld. He wanted to speak to Jesse alone,  _ really _ alone, for once - especially if it’s the only chance he gets. 

Gabe lets Jesse step in ahead of him and waits for the door to slide shut behind him before he says anything. But now, facing Jesse, alone, Gabe doesn’t know if he has the words. He doesn’t even know where to begin. 

“Is it really you?” Jesse asks before Gabe can decide what he wants to say. Gabe exhales. 

“I feel like I should be asking you the same question,” Gabe says. “Do you… do you know who I am?”

Jesse hesitates then nods slowly. He looks down for a moment, twisting the hem of the shirt they pilfered from Livestock between his fingers. He takes a breath and looks back up. 

“I don’t remember everything,” Jesse says slowly. “It’s bits and pieces. Little flashes of memory. I remember… feelings more than anything.” 

He pauses. 

“I remember the gorge, when we blew up the Los Muertos camp. I remember - I remember Pariah. I remember running away together and then I remember…” Jesse trails off, his hand drifting down to his abdomen, pressing in. Gabe swallows hard: the image of Jack vivisecting Jesse before his eyes still haunts Gabe’s nightmares. Jesse doesn’t finish the thought, but instead meets Gabe’s eye. “I ain’t never felt anything like I felt with you, Gabe. You lit a fire inside me that never went out and then one day it felt like I - like I woke up. I could remember things - nothing felt quite right, but you weren’t there and I thought… I thought it was all a dream.”

Jesse stops, his shoulders rising and falling with labored breaths. 

“It wasn’t a dream, right?”

“No, Jesse,” Gabe says finally. “It wasn’t a dream.”

The tension melts out of Jesse’s expression and he closes the distance between them, taking Gabe’s face in both hands and kissing him hard. Gabe makes a small noise and kisses him back, just as hard, something unraveling in his chest. Jesse clings to him, desperately, unabashedly. 

“Where were you?” Jesse asks between heated kisses. “Why didn’t you come back?”

“I’m sorry - I’m so sorry,” Gabe says. “I was so stupid.”

Jesse shakes his head a little and presses in closer, kissing him again. He crowds Gabe so Gabe has to take a step back, then another. Gabe lets Jesse practically push him backwards, as if letting Jesse take the lead will make up for the decades of Gabe’s inaction. He tries to banish those thoughts from his mind. 

Jesse is here now. They’re together. This is Gabe’s chance - maybe his only chance - to make it right. He’s going to figure out a way to make it right, if it’s the last thing he does. 

Jesse’s hands are all over Gabe’s chest, sides, running up his back. His fingers pluck at Gabe’s shirt until it comes free from where it’s tucked into the hem of his pants and then he slides his palm underneath the fabric. The contact of skin on skin makes Gabe practically jump. He makes a noise into Jesse’s mouth. 

“Gabe - please - I need to…” Jesse says, plucking at Gabe’s shirt again, trying to pull it up and off. Gabe pulls away just enough to help him, dropping his shirt on the floor. Jesse stops, eyes roaming over Gabe’s exposed chest. Self-consciousness suddenly washes over Gabe. It’s been years; he’s not a young man anymore, and though he’s in good shape, he’s… old. Jesse puts his hands on Gabe’s chest. “I missed you, Gabe.”

Gabe exhales. “I missed you too, Jesse,” he says, and means it. He spent years pretending like his first visit to Westworld was an anomaly - that nothing out of the ordinary had happened to him. But his experience there, with Jesse, changed Gabe in more ways than he was ever willing to admit. Even after working for Delos in Westworld for years, Gabe refused to let himself acknowledge how the experience had shaped him. Losing Jesse all those years ago had changed Gabe irreparably. 

Gabe pulls away. Jesse makes a little sound of protest but Gabe cups his cheek. 

“Do you want to, ah. Come to bed?” Gabe asks. The corner of Jesse’s mouth quirks up. 

“I’m here, ain’t I?”

“No harm in making sure,” Gabe says. Jesse leans in and kisses Gabe firmly. 

“I’m sure.”

Gabe lets his breath out, strangely relieved. Jesse kisses him again, then again, and keeps kissing him until they’re both breathless. Gabe does his best to guide them back into his bedroom, but he keeps tripping over his own and Jesse’s feet. Jesse ends up pushing Gabe against the wall just outside of the bedroom, pressing the length of his body against Gabe’s to pin him there. Gabe’s brain practically short circuits. He goes pliant under Jesse, tilting his head back as Jesse kisses down over his jaw, his throat. He closes his eyes. Jesse’s fingers are working on his belt, trying to get at the skin underneath. His palm slides up Gabe’s stomach, warm and steady, grounding him, bringing Gabe back to this moment. 

“Do you remember the gorge?” Jesse asks, his lips pressed directly against Gabe’s throat. Gabe swallows thickly and nods. 

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” Jesse says. He sucks a mark into Gabe’s skin that makes him shudder. “Never thought being with someone could feel like that. But you changed it all, didn’t you?”

Gabe turns his head to capture Jesse’s mouth for a kiss. Jesse kisses him back, deeply, tongue sweeping between Gabe’s lips needily, insistent. 

“Bed?” Gabe manages to ask, breathless. 

“Yeah,” Jesse says. He lets up just enough so Gabe can peel himself off the wall and step ahead of Jesse. Gabe walks the next couple of steps into the bedroom and turns back to Jesse, to find Jesse looking at him intently. 

“I missed you, Gabe,” Jesse says. Gabe swallows down a soft  _ oh _ that threatens to escape. He nods. 

“I missed you too, Jesse.”

Jesse steps in close again, wrapping his arms around Gabe, one hand pressing against the small of his back as he kisses him hard, teeth clicking together. Gabe doesn’t care. He clings to Jesse like he’s drowning. Jesse drags Gabe down to the bed and scrambles up over him to straddle his waist. He tugs his stolen shirt off and drops it over the edge of the bed. Gabe lets his eyes roam over Jesse’s shoulders, his chest, his stomach. His hands follow his eyes’ path, coming to rest of Jesse’s hips. Fred cleaned him up, but even still: Jesse’s the same as he was thirty years ago. Gabe once again feels keenly self-conscious of his own body. Jesse’s hands are pushing up his shirt. 

“Jesse -” Gabe starts to say. Jesse’s eyes flick up to Gabe’s face. 

“What is it?”

Gabe opens his mouth, then close it and shakes his head. 

“Nothing. Just - it’s been a long time,” Gabe says. Jesse gives him a little smile. 

“You said that last time too,” Jesse says. Gabe huffs out a little laugh. 

“Yeah. Well, even more now.”

Jesse leans down and kisses Gabe sweetly, tenderly. It makes Gabe forget to breathe for a moment. 

“I’ll go easy on you,” Jesse says. “You just tell me if it’s too much, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Jesse kisses him again, deepening it slowly, his tongue sweeping into Gabe’s mouth. Gabe screws his eyes shut, trying to memorize the feeling. It’s all so familiar and strange at the same time. Jesse knows exactly how to kiss him, how to hold him. It’s like it’s been no time at all - like it was only yesterday Jesse let Gabe into his bed at the Deadlock bordello. 

Jesse works his mouth down Gabe’s throat again. His fingers pull Gabe’s shirt up, all the way up and off, and his mouth peppers kisses down Gabe’s sternum. Gabe shifts under him. 

“Missed you,” Jesse murmurs against Gabe’s skin. “Missed you so much.”

Jesse’s mouth gets to the hem of Gabe’s pants and he pulls the belt the rest of the way open. His fingers pause at Gabe’s top button and he raises his eyes to look at Gabe. 

“Can I?”

“Don’t stop. Please.”

Jesse pops open the button on Gabe’s pants but doesn’t know what to do about his zipper. After a moment of confusion, Gabe reaches down and tugs it open for Jesse.

“What kind of…” Jesse says, shaking his head a little, but trails off. He gets his hand into Gabe’s underwear and wraps his hand around his dick. He pulls it out and before Gabe can even register what’s happening, Jesse’s lips close around the tip of his cock. 

Gabe’s hand flies into Jesse’s hair. He presses his head back into the pillow and tries to breathe through his nose. A flood of feelings come back to him all at once, heightening the intensely warm, wet sensation around his dick as Jesse sucks him down. It’s been too long. Gabe had all but given up on dating in any meaningful way; sure, there were a couple fucks out of convenience, both him and whoever the partner of the night needing to scratch an itch, nothing more. He had forgotten how it could feel with someone with whom he had a connection. 

“Jesse,” Gabe gasps, arching up on the bed, tugging on Jesse’s hair. Jesse pulls off with an obscene wet pop. His hand replaces his mouth, stroking down along Gabe’s length with slow, deliberate strokes. 

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah - fuck yeah, Jesse. Don’t stop?”

“I ain’t planning on it,” Jesse says. He ducks his head to press a kiss to the tip of Gabe’s cock. “I wanna feel you, though. Feel you inside me.”

“I want that too,” Gabe says. Jesse smiles around Gabe’s dick and then pulls up, getting up to kick off his pants. 

“You got slick?”

Gabe rolls to the side to dig around in his nightstand. He fumbles for a moment, a sinking feeling growing in his stomach that he might not  _ actually _ have any lube - that’s how long his recent dry spell has been - but then he finds a half-empty bottle shoved all the way in the back of the drawer. He holds the bottle up to Jesse, who takes it and inspects it curiously. 

“This is slick?”

“Lube,” Gabe nods. “Plenty slick.”

Jesse presses on the pump and squirts an overly generous amount into his palm. He lets out a little surprised laugh. 

“Hope you like me real wet, Gabe,” Jesse says. Gabe practically shudders at that. Jesse grins at him. He straddles Gabe’s waist, holding himself up on his knees as he fingers himself open, some of the lube dripping down onto Gabe’s lower belly. The cool sensation makes his toes curl. His cock is practically standing straight up, as if it senses how close Jesse is, as if Jesse is all he ever needed. Jesse’s cool, wet hand wraps around it again and strokes him down. “I didn’t know how much I missed this until I saw you, Gabe.”

Gabe nods jerkily, doing his best not to thrust up into Jesse’s hand. 

“Me too.”

Jesse positions himself over Gabe’s cock, reaching behind him to grip it, rubbing the head between his cheeks. The tip catches on the rim of Jesse’s hole before skating over it. Gabe curls his fingers into the sheets to keep from losing it all right then. Jesse drops his chin to his chest and locks eyes with Gabe as he finally sinks down on Gabe’s cock. Gabe’s mouth falls open as the impossibly tight, wet heat of Jesse’s ass as he envelops him. Jesse’s own mouth hangs open, his eyes widening even as he keeps his eyes on Gabe’s. 

“G-Gabe -” Jesse manages to choke out. His legs shake and then he sinks down the last couple of inches all at once with a sharp gasp that Gabe echoes with one of his own. Jesse’s clenches hard around Gabe’s cock but he doesn’t move immediately. His legs are still shaking. Gabe manages to detangle his fingers from the sheet to run a palm up Jesse’s thigh. 

“Okay?” Gabe asks. Jesse nods. 

“Yeah - yeah. Fuck, Gabe, I missed you.”

Gabe surges up to a seated position and wraps his arms around Jesse’s shoulders, pulling him in for a heated kiss. Jesse makes a small, whimpering sound into his mouth as he kisses him back. He rolls his hips in Gabe’s lap, slowly at first, then with more purpose as he gets the hang of the angle. Gabe drops one hand to Jesse’s hip to guide him, doing his best to thrust up in time with Jesse’s movements. 

It’s easy. It’s like puzzle pieces falling back into place. It’s the part of Gabe that was missing for so long, that Gabe didn’t have words to describe, that Gabe never allowed himself to articulate because it was simply  _ crazy _ \- but here it is now, right in front of him, plain as day. Jesse’s the piece that’s been missing for all these years. 

Together, they move in perfect sync, Jesse rolling his hips to take Gabe’s cock in as deep as he can get it. Gabe angles his thrusts to meet him, driving his cock into Jesse’s prostate. It’s hot and wild and loud; neither of them bother keeping their voices down, their cries punctuating the slap of sweaty skin on skin. Jesse’s blunt nails are dragging red marks into Gabe’s shoulders and back. Gabe leaves a deep purple hickey on the hollow of Jesse’s throat. He fucks into Jesse wildly, unbridled, trying to make up for all the years they missed out on with every thrust. 

Jesse tosses his head back as he cries out. His hair sends droplets of sweat raining down on the duvet. Gabe looks down just in time to see Jesse’s cock spurt between them, coating both their stomachs with his come. The sight combined with Jesse’s desperate moans and the way his ass clenches around Gabe’s cock is more than enough to send Gabe over the edge. He pulls Jesse down hard on his cock and comes a moment later, his cock pulsing into Jesse’s still-fluttering ass. 

Neither of them move for what feels like several hours. Gabe’s ears are ringing, his heart is pounding, his breathing still coming quick, when he comes back to himself. He’s clinging to Jesse, unwilling to let him go. He knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, if he lets Jesse go, that this night will be over - that he’ll have to go back to his real life, where Jesse doesn’t exist as anything but a memory. 

Jesse moves first. All of the tension goes out of his body and he melts against Gabe’s chest, dropping his head to Gabe’s shoulder, pressing his face against Gabe’s neck. His lips press a shaky kiss to Gabe’s skin. 

“I don’t want to go back,” Jesse says quietly, almost too quiet to hear even above the sound of the blood still rushing in Gabe’s ears. Gabe tightens his arms around Jesse instinctively. 

“Jesse…” Gabe starts to say. Jesse pulls far away enough to look Gabe in the eye. 

“You said you’d help me - you  _ promised _ ,” Jesse says, though his tone isn’t accusing like Gabe would expect it to be. He’s just stating the facts. Reminding him. Gabe swallows. “I remember things now, Gabe. I know what I am - I’m not like you. I can’t - I  _ won’t  _ go back to the bordello and pretend like everything’s alright. I can’t.”

Gabe reaches up, haltingly, and tucks a lock of hair behind Jesse’s ear. 

“Wouldn’t it be better?” Gabe asks, even though he already knows the answer. Jesse leans his cheek into Gabe’s hand and looks at him, something like pity in his eyes. Gabe looks past him, his voice going almost faraway. “Forgetting everything, all the pain, the suffering…?”

“Nobody ever really forgets,” Jesse says. “Even me.”

Gabe exhales. He looks back at Jesse. “Then… What do you want to do?”

“Start over - go somewhere new. I don’t know, Gabe, anything. You showed me adventure once. You promised we’d go to California, even.”

Gabe touches Jesse’s left wrist. “They can track you. You can’t even leave the park without… They’ll stop you.”

“We’ll lose them,” Jesse says, getting more excited. He moves his hand so he can lace his fingers with Gabe. “Think about it, Gabe. Freedom. You and me. Just like we talked about."

Gabe shifts then tips backwards to lie down on the bed. Jesse goes with him, needing to be close, unwilling to let too much space get between them. He unstraddles Gabe’s lap, finally letting Gabe’s soft cock slip all the way out, and presses his body against the length of Gabe’s side. 

“Out of everybody, we could do it,” Jesse says. He brings Gabe’s hand to his lips. Gabe turns his head to look at him, scanning his face. 

At the end of the day, what does Gabe have to lose, really? 

“There’s - it’s not that simple, Jesse.”

“I know that,” Jesse says, frowning. “I know it ain’t gonna be easy. But just because it ain’t easy doesn’t mean it ain’t worth doing.”

Gabe exhales. He turns his head to catch Jesse’s mouth with his own. 

“Okay,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

Jesse pulls away abruptly to get a good look at Gabe. He scans his face, almost suspiciously. 

“Really?” Jesse asks. Gabe nods slowly. 

“I’ve got nothing to lose, and if it makes you happy -” Gabe stops, shakes his head a little. “I’ve spent the last thirty years more or less miserable. My work is… fine. Everything is just fine. Being with you, even for just a few days like it was, it was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I never thought… I didn’t think that being there would affect me as much as it did. But it changed me. You changed me. I was struggling and alone, and you reminded me what it was like to… to be happy again. To feel full, complete. I haven’t felt that again in thirty years. Until today.”

Jesse slips his hand up to cup Gabe’s cheek. “You deserve to be happy, Gabe. We both do.”

Gabe gives him a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“We should at least try, then, huh?”

“We should,” Jesse says. Gabe sucks in a breath that he lets out in a little laugh, surprising himself. He leans in and kisses Jesse. 

“Okay,” Gabe says. He kisses Jesse again, then again. He feels lighter than air. “Okay. Okay.”

Gabe wraps his arms around Jesse and keeps kissing him. It feels good, it feels right. Jesse kisses Gabe back, his own mouth curled in a smile, practically laughing into Gabe’s mouth. Gabe shifts so he’s holding himself up over Jesse’s body, pressing kisses down Jesse’s throat, pausing to seal a kiss over the purple mark already blooming on his skin. He kisses over Jesse’s collarbone and down his chest, tasting his skin, salty with sweat. Gabe lets his eyes slip closed briefly. He leans his forehead against Jesse’s sternum. When he lifts his head again, Gabe looks up to find Jesse watching him with shiny eyes. 

“I love you Jesse,” Gabe says, his voice quiet, full of emotion. Jesse bites his lip, but he’s smiling. He reaches down and hauls Gabe back up so he can kiss him. Jesse practically laughs into Gabe’s mouth. 

“I never thought I’d hear that,” Jesse says. He kisses Gabe again, hard. “I love you too, Gabe.”

It feels like a dam has been broken inside of him. Gabe clings to Jesse, kissing him desperately, overwhelmed in the best way. Of all the things he’s done in his life, this is the only thing that’s ever felt so totally  _ right.  _

Their kissing grows more heated, Jesse arching up under Gabe needily, his kisses becoming sloppier. Gabe moves back down Jesse’s chest, dragging his mouth through the soft hairs that fan over Jesse’s stomach, then further down to the thick hair between his legs. He nuzzles in, breathing in the scent of him, his nose bumping up against the base of Jesse’s cock. It already filling out on Jesse’s hip. Gabe wraps his lips around the tip of him and loosens his jaw to take him into his mouth. Jesse arches under him, his hands reaching down for Gabe, one stroking over the back his Gabe’s head. 

“I miss your hair,” Jesse says. He gasps as Gabe takes more of his cock down his throat, fingers scrabbling against Gabe’s scalp. “Oh - fuck, Gabe.”

Gabe makes a noise around Jesse’s dick and lets his eyes slide closed. He loves the way Jesse’s cock stretches his mouth, the way it tastes on his tongue, how the blunt tip hits the back of his throat. He wants to do this for the rest of his life. 

Jesse is moaning, louder and louder, Gabe’s name on his lips. His hips shudder and twitch under Gabe’s hands. 

“Love you, Gabe,” Jesse breathes. “Love you, love you - oh,  _ oh _ \- !”

Gabe presses his head down, taking Jesse’s dick as far down his throat as he’s able as Jesse comes hard. He swallows around him until Jesse starts to soften. Gabe pulls off with a wet noise and drops his cheek to Jesse’s thigh. Jesse’s hand is still petting over Gabe’s close-shaved hair. 

“Love you,” Jesse murmurs again. Gabe closes his eyes briefly. He drops a kiss to Jesse’s thigh. Pushing himself back up onto his arms, Gabe stretches up to kiss Jesse properly. 

“I love you too,” Gabe says. He’s surprised by how easily it comes to him, how easy it is to say. How  _ right _ it feels. He can’t remember another time when saying those words to someone felt so natural. “I love you. I love you.”

Gabe kisses Jesse, slow and deep, with building intensity, still whispering  _ I love you _ between kisses. Jesse wraps his arms around him, drawing him as close as physically possible. He even hooks a leg around Gabe’s hip. 

When they fuck again, it’s slower. More intense. Gabe rolls his hips and his cock sinks into Jesse with almost no resistance. He fits perfectly, like they’re two pieces of the puzzle. Like Gabe’s coming home. 

They share breath. Their bodies move together, they hold each other’s gaze. They say each other’s names. They say  _ I love you _ , over and over, like a prayer. When they come, they come together, clinging to each other until their bodies go limp. 

Gabe drifts off to sleep with his face tucked into Jesse’s neck, one of Jesse’s arms wrapped around his shoulders. The last thing he feels is Jesse’s lips against the top of his head. Content, Gabe lets sleep take him. 

A sudden movement and a shout jerks Gabe awake some time later. Gabe blinks open his eyes blearily. Next to him, Jesse is sitting up, his head in his hands, shaking. Tentatively, Gabe reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. Jesse tenses under his hand. 

“Jesse?” Gabe asks softly. Slowly, Jesse turns his head to look at Gabe. 

“Sorry,” he says. His voice sounds hoarse, like he’d been crying. Gabe rubs his palm over Jesse’s shoulder. 

“It’s alright. Are you okay?”

“I’m -” Jesse starts to say, then shakes his head. “I remember more things, Gabe. Not just you. Before you - before…” 

Jesse swallows. He’s having trouble meeting Gabe’s eye, which makes his stomach sour and twist. Maybe all this was too good to be true. Gabe doesn’t move his hand, but he drops his gaze into his lap. After a moment, Jesse speaks again. 

“There was a little girl,” Jesse says finally. Gabe feels Jesse’s hand on his chin, gently tilting his face up. “She was… my daughter. Fred said it was a long time ago, but I had a daughter. We had a house. She - I watched her get killed. Shot point blank.” 

Gabe doesn’t know what to say. He finds Jesse’s other hand with his own and squeezes it gently. Jesse squeezes it back. 

“If she’s like me, Gabe, she’s out there, somewhere,” Jesse says. The look he gives Gabe is so earnest it makes Gabe’s chest ache. “Even if she ain’t like me, if she doesn’t know who she is like I do - I can’t… I can’t just leave her out there. Alone. I have to find her. Before we go anywhere else - I have to find her. Maybe I can’t fix everything in this place, but maybe I can make one little change. Make sure she’s safe. Protect her.”

“We’re doing this together, remember?”

“Even…?”

“I’ll help you, Jesse. I promised, didn’t I?”

Jesse crushes his mouth to Gabe’s. “I love you, Gabe. So much. Dunno what I did to deserve you, but…” he shakes his head, kissing Gabe again. 

“I love you too, Jesse.”


	14. AWOL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack discovers that Gabe is missing from Delos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Shit's gettin' real! Two chapters today, and the very last chapter is going up next week! Thank you to everyone who'd stuck through this whole thing - it means a lot ♥ 
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](wictorwictor.tumblr.com) and 

The moon has set but the sun hasn’t yet risen, casting the desert in shadows of deep blues and purples. The stars are beginning to fade as the horizon lightens. It’s a beautiful, clear morning, the heat of the unrelenting desert sun having not had the time to wither the landscape to a crisp. Nothing moves. The desert holds its breath. 

Hoofbeats break the silence. Two figures ride hard across the desert, hunched low over the backs of their horses. A light breeze picks up and whips one of the riders’ serape out behind him, the bright red standing out against the sky as the sun rises. They look like they’re being pursued, though there doesn’t seem to be anyone giving chase. They’re alone in the wide-open desert, just the two of them. Neither rider looks behind them. Their focus is whatever lies ahead of them. 

The desert stretches on, unbroken, full of untold possibilities. 

※

An alarm goes off, rousing Jack from a deep sleep. He mumbles something groggily and shifts under his blankets. He reaches for his alarm clock but is confused when he finds it silent. Levering himself up on his elbow, Jack gets a look at the clock face. It reads 4:13AM in bright red lights. Jack blinks at it. It’s too early for his wake up call. He blinks again. The alarm is still going off somewhere. 

With a grunt, Jack drags himself out of bed and shuffles over to his dresser. His Delos tablet is there, docked and charging, alarm blaring urgently. Jack blinks at it, his half-conscious brain not registering what he’s looking at. He finally blinks the sleep out of his eyes and picks up the tablet. A security alert flashes at him. Jack hits the mute button then unplugs the tablet and brings it back to bed. Under the warmth of his covers, Jack swipes open the tablet to bring up the alert. 

> **WARNING** : UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS - RESTRICTED AREA

Jack rubs at his eyes. It’s too early for this. He’s a morning person, generally speaking, but he usually likes to have some coffee before he has to deal with work bullshit. He taps through the security access checks and scans his thumb before the actual report finally comes up on his screen. 

He reads it once, then he reads it again, not sure if his sleep-addled brain is playing tricks on him. He reads it one more time before he finally gets out of bed. 

Jack throws some clothes on and makes his way across the Delos campus to the security center. It’s still mostly dark outside, a slight chill in the air before the hot sun rises and burns off the pleasant nighttime dew. Jack walks quickly, the cool breeze making him more and more alert. He looks down at his tablet again as he walks into the building, but the report hasn’t been updated. Jack lets himself into the security center. It’s quiet at this time of day - the night shift is winding down and the morning relief crew hasn’t yet come in. Given the implied severity of the alert on Jack’s tablet, he would’ve expected more activity, but hardly anyone even looks up when Jack walks in. 

“Status report,” Jack says as he strides over to the command console. He brings up the map projection of the breached area - or tries to; the projection fizzles with static. Jack frowns and re-enters the coordinates, but the map staunchly refuses to load. Reinhardt Wilhelm, the night shift supervisor, suddenly appears at Jack’s side, his enormous bulk towering over Jack. 

“We had a few strange readings in this area,” Reinhardt says, gesturing at the malfunctioning area of the map. His voice booms through the otherwise quiet security center. Jack leans away slightly. He should’ve stopped for a cup of coffee. “We’ve lost contact with several of the cameras and sensors in the vicinity.”

“That’s it?” Jack asks, narrowing his eyes. 

“That’s the biggest issue we’re dealing with currently, yes. It’s a large section of territory.”

“Why did I get a notification about a security breach?” Jack asks, mostly managing to temper the annoyance in his voice. Reinhardt gives him an apologetic look. 

“Protocol,” Reinhardt says. He spreads his hands. “We tried to stop the system from generating the notification, but... it’s hard wired.”

“Great,” Jack says. He frowns down at the map, then back at the report on his tablet. He holds it up to Reinhardt. “Where’s Lindholm? Or whoever wrote this report.”

“Oh - Brigitte,” Reinhardt says. He half-turns and calls over his shoulder - somehow even louder than his normal speaking voice. “Brigitte!”

A young woman with a long ponytail and broad shoulders pokes her head up from a station nearby, though she’s surely heard everything Jack and Reinhardt were saying. She gets up quickly and comes over to where they are standing at the map console. 

“Sir?” she asks brightly, almost too eagerly. Jack swears they’re getting younger and younger every year. He holds up his tablet again. 

“You filed the report?” he asks. Brigitte bobs her head. 

“Yes sir. I noticed the sensors throwing up odd readings, but when I took a closer look, they had already gone offline,” she says. Jack scrolls through the report as she speaks. 

“It says here the last access was by Commander Reyes,” Jack says. Brigitte nods again. 

“That’s what the access logs say,” she says. “A few hours before the sector went offline.”

“Did anyone see him?”

Brigitte’s eyes slide to Reinhardt. “Well, no. Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?” Jack repeats, this time failing to keep the annoyance out of his voice. 

“Well I couldn’t confirm visual, sir, but it was his access code.”

Jack pinches the bridge of his nose. “Did anyone think to call Commander Reyes to confirm his access?”

Neither Reinhardt nor Brigitte say anything. Jack sighs. 

“Tell me, are the sensors actually damaged or just offline?” Jack asks. 

“It’s hard to say,” Brigitte says. Jack gives her an irritated look, so she adds quickly, “The cameras and sensors aren’t responding to our normal reset and refresh commands. We attempted to conduct a remote rewrite, but that didn’t seem to work either. So, we’ll have to go into the field to figure out if there’s been physical damage to the components. Once the sun’s up, I mean.”

Brigitte sounds far too excited about the prospect of going into the field. She must be dying to get off the night shift - Jack can’t blame her. Even Westworld has to sleep. It can’t be high-octane adventure all the time. 

“Right,” Jack says. He puts on his old strike commander voice and gives Brigitte and Reinhardt a severe look. “Keep monitoring the situation. I don’t want anyone heading out into the field until we’ve run more tests. Keep trying to ping those sensors - if we can revive them remotely, we should. I’m going to go find Reyes.”

Brigitte looks disappointed, but she nods. 

“Yes sir,” Reinhardt says. “We’ll report in if we find any new information.”

“I’ll be back,” Jack says, already turning away. He strides out of the security center. 

Jack half-hopes Gabe is still sleeping as he dials his private comm. The line rings and rings, but Gabe doesn’t pick up. When Gabe’s voicemail answers, Jack hangs up and hits redial. Gabe still doesn’t answer. His comm can’t be off if it’s ringing, and Gabe isn’t known to be a heavy sleeper, which only makes Jack start to worry. He lengthens his stride and keeps hitting redial. By the time he gets to Gabe’s quarters back at the staff housing buildings, though, Jack’s worry has begun to fester. He bangs on Gabe’s door. 

“Gabe? You in there? Wake up!” Jack shouts through the door. He pauses, listening for any movement on the other side. Hearing nothing, Jack bangs on the door again. “Gabe! Wake up!”

Still: no response. Jack dials Gabe’s comm again. He presses his ear against the door. Sure enough, he hears Gabe’s comm ringing faintly on the other side.

Jack makes a decision. 

Using his security override, Jack lets himself into Gabe’s quarters. He’s prepared for the worst - Gabe lying unresponsive in a puddle of blood or vomit or  _ something _ \- but instead, Jack finds Gabe’s apartment… empty. Gabe’s place is smaller than Jack’s - something Jack has never understood; they both deserve plenty of space for all the work they put in. It’s always been neater than Jack’s and nothing is obviously out of place. 

The door slides shut behind him as Jack steps inside tentatively. He finds Gabe’s comm on the coffee table, flashing the missed calls from Jack. Jack picks up the comm but, predictably, it’s locked. Jack tries a couple number combinations to no avail. He pockets the device - someone in security can crack it for him. 

Jack moves through Gabe’s apartment, looking for any signs of a struggle or some kind of indication as to where Gabe might be. His bed is unmade, messy. Jack spots a bottle of lube tangled up in the sheets. Jack scrunches up his nose and moves away to peek into the bathroom. No bodies, nothing out of place. Gabe’s clothes are either hanging neatly in the closet or folded carefully in the dresser - there isn’t anything missing, as far as Jack can tell. 

Jack goes back to the living room, perplexed. This isn’t like Gabe at all. Where would he have gone, with no notice, without his comm? 

Why had he accessed that restricted sector?

The sun is starting to shine through the windows. Jack does one more sweep of Gabe’s apartment before he leaves, going through all the possibilities in his mind. On one hand, Gabe could’ve gone for a late night/early morning stroll, but given his access code on the malfunctioning sector, Jack has to believe that Gabe’s disappearance isn’t as innocuous as that. On the other hand, why would Gabe do anything to harm Delos? None of this makes sense. Jack finds Gabe’s Delos tablet and takes that too, hopeful that one of the techs in the security center can tell him what exactly Gabe accessed before everything went offline. 

Jack leaves Gabe’s quarters with Gabe’s comm and tablet. He heads back to his own apartment to make himself a cup of coffee before he goes back to the security center. He’s going to need the caffeine. As he watches the coffee percolate in his old fashioned coffee pot, Jack lets his mind wander. Gabe was… fine, as far as Jack knew. He always showed up for work, always did more than was asked of him. Gabe was happy to let Jack take the lead on Delos’s technology push with the United Nations security council - wasn’t he? Gabe was never much for the spotlight, and Jack had always taken the lead on Overwatch’s - now Delos’s - outward facing efforts. Gabe could do his work behind the scenes and Jack could network new opportunities for them. It worked out well for both of them. They both got exactly what they wanted. 

Didn’t they?

Jack pours a travel mug full of coffee, frowning to himself as he looks around his apartment. It’s bigger than Gabe’s, as is fitting for a co-owner of the Overwatch-Delos joint venture. Jack never understood why Gabe didn’t allow himself more, give himself more. They’ve built an empire. They worked hard to get where they are. They’ve sacrificed. The least they could do is give themselves somewhere nice to come back to at the end of the day. But Gabe insisted, and, at the time, Jack hadn’t cared enough to push back. If it was what Gabe wanted, he could have it. Jack wasn’t going to begrudge him that. They deserved to have whatever they want, even if Jack didn’t totally agree with what Gabe wanted. 

Now, though, Jack has to wonder if it wasn’t something more, something that Gabe wasn’t telling him. 

Back at the security center, Reinhardt and Brigitte are still there, bent over Brigitte’s console, even though most of the rest of the night shift has left. The morning crew are yawning at their stations as they conduct their usual routines. It doesn’t look like Reinhardt or Brigitte have pulled anyone from the morning shift into their conundrum, which suits Jack just fine. He wants to contain this mess for as long as possible. 

“You’re still here,” Jack says, coming up behind Reinhardt, where he’s leaning over Brigitte’s chair. Reinhardt jumps slightly, then straightens when he realizes it’s Jack. Brigitte looks over her shoulder and sits up straighter in her seat too. They could almost be father and daughter, the way they mirror each other. 

“We thought it would be best if we see this through,” Reinhardt says. “Since we were on duty when the sector went offline.”

Jack adjusts Gabe’s tablet under his arm so he can take a sip of his coffee. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, letting the caffeine wash over his brain. He can appreciate, at least, Reinhardt’s sense of duty. Brigitte is nodding right alongside him. 

“Fine,” Jack says. “I’ll approve the overtime. Do you have any updates for me?”

Brigitte shakes her head. “No sir. The sector that’s gone offline includes a large portion of land that isn’t currently being used in any active storylines. It’s a part of the park that’s been dormant for a long time.”

“She means to say that if we had to go out into the field, we wouldn’t have to worry about disrupting any guests’ experiences,” Reinhardt puts in. “That also means that no current narratives have been interrupted.”

“Well, fortunately for us, we’ve been in debugging mode all week. The first wave of new guests is supposed to arrive this morning,” Jack says. He scans Brigitte’s console, but there’s nothing there that she hasn’t already said, and nothing more for Jack to glean. “Still, if we can fix this remotely, we should.”

Brigitte’s eyes slide to Reinhardt, then back to Jack before she speaks again. 

“Did you find Commander Reyes?” she asks. “If he was the one to last access this sector’s protocols, he might have some insight -”

“He wasn’t in his quarters,” Jack says. He takes another sip of coffee. Brigitte’s eyes widen as they dart over to Reinhardt again. 

“Does that mean…?” Reinhardt starts to ask, then trails off. Jack raises his eyebrows, but Reinhardt doesn’t elaborate. 

“I don’t know what it means,” Jack says. “Has the IT Security team come in yet this morning?” 

Reinhardt glances down at the watch strapped to his enormous wrist. It’s not one of the slick, Delos-issued smartwatches, but a genuine analogue timepiece. Jack likes the look of it. 

“They’re not due in for another hour,” Reinhardt says. “If there’s anything we can do, sir -”

“Keep working on getting that sector back online,” Jack says. “Pull any and all access logs for that sector going back, I don’t know, let’s start with a month. Look for anything out of place. Keep me posted.”

Jack starts to move away, intending to head into his office to try to get ahold of Gabe, or maybe his family members - doesn’t he have a sister or two? - when his comm rings. He juggles Gabe’s tablet again, doing his best not to spill any coffee, before he finally manages to fish his own comm out of his pocket. 

“Morrison,” Jack answers, voice clipped. 

“Commander Morrison, this is Satya Vaswani, head of Behavior -”

“No need to be so formal, Satya. I know who you are.”

“Your status said you were already on duty.”

“That’s why I’m answering my comm,” Jack says, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. The folks in Behavior are quite possibly even worse than the weirdos in Livestock. It’s too early to be dealing with Behavior on top of everything else already. It must be a Tuesday. Jack hates Tuesdays. 

“We have a situation in Behavior that requires your immediate attention,” Satya says. Jack blinks then changes direction to the elevators. 

“You could’ve started with that,” he says. 

“Apologies. It is urgent, so if you -”

“I’m already on my way,” Jack says. He hangs up and shoves his comm back in his pocket with difficulty. He should leave Gabe’s comm and tablet in his office for safekeeping, but it’s so rare that he’s called down to Behavior that he doesn’t want to waste time. He punches the button for Behavior’s floor and sips his coffee on his way up. He wishes he could’ve gotten just a few more hours of sleep before having to deal with this mess. 

The elevator doors ping open on the Behavior floor, which is still relatively quiet at this point in the morning. The Behavior specialists were working overtime all week on the debugging project per Dr. Ziegler’s orders, and since the final push has come to an end, Jack wouldn’t be surprised if some of the specialists came in a little later than usual today. He navigates through the maze of workrooms, nearly running into a glass walled dead end twice before he finds Satya Vaswani in her preferred workroom in the far corner of the floor. 

Not for the first time, Jack curses Dr. O’Deorain’s dedication to aesthetic that makes navigating this place totally impossible. 

Satya is standing at her workbench with her arms folded over her chest, one of the younger Behavior specialists sitting on a stool next to her, head bowed and shoulders hunched. Lisa or Laura, Jack thinks. British. Far too energetic. He pushes open the door to the workroom. 

“What’s the problem?” Jack asks. Satya looks up at him. 

“A host has gone missing,” Satya says. For all of Satya’s particularities, at least she doesn’t mince words. 

“Missing how?” Jack asks. He thinks back to Brigitte’s report - there hadn’t been any details about host movement or activities. It had only referenced the sector that went offline. It didn’t occur to him until now that the two incidents might be related. “Misplaced?”

“It seems to have been removed from the system,” Satya says. 

“Decommissioned?”

“No,” Satya says. 

“Then what?”

“He’s just gone,” the young Behavior specialist says. She looks up at Jack with enormous, round eyes, her lower lip wobbling. Jack desperately hopes she doesn’t start crying. By the grimace on Satya’s face, Jack guesses she also would prefer if the specialist keeps her emotions in check. “He was checked into Livestock last night but when I went to bring him back into circulation - I - he was gone.”

Jack closes his eyes briefly. “Alright. Who was on duty in Livestock?”

“Lena was supposed to oversee the host’s wipe and reset last night,” Satya says, unmistakably testy. “Livestock Management signed over responsibility to Lena last night, per my instructions.”

Lena bites her lip. “Commander Reyes asked for some privacy with the host. I didn’t think…”

“Commander Reyes did?” Jack interrupts. Suddenly, it’s like the puzzle pieces are falling into place. Jack’s got a sinking feeling about this whole situation. Lena nods. 

“Yes sir.”

“Which host was it?”

Lena reaches for her tablet and brings up the host’s profile. She holds it out to Jack. He blinks a the screen, his fingers clenching hard around the travel mug in his hand. 

“Son of a bitch.”

※

The sun has fully risen by the time Gabe and Jesse finally slow their horses to a trot. They’ve been riding hard for most of the night, and they’re finally starting to feel the exhaustion. The desert has given way to chaparral, only slightly less barren than where they had started. They can see a copse of trees tucked into the fold between a nearby set of hills - as good an indication as any that water is nearby. Gabe and Jesse guide their horses in that direction, not speaking much until they finally reach the trees. 

Jesse slides down from his horse immediately. He walks ahead, leading his horse by the reins with his other hand on the butt of his pistol, until he comes to the edge of a gently rippling pond being fed by a small creek running down the hill. Jesse tethers his horse to an enormous oak tree with branches that reach over the pond. Gabe slides down from his own horse to do the same. 

“Drink up,” Jesse says, rubbing the neck of his horse. It’s not Buckshot - they couldn’t risk it - but Jesse has a knack with horses that Gabe can’t help but admire. He ties his own horse up next to Jesse’s before he slips up behind him, dropping his mouth to the back of Jesse’s neck. He tastes like sweat and dust. Gabe closes his eyes to breathe in the smell. Jesse leans back into Gabe’s arms. They stand like that for a long moment, both of them watching their horses as they drink from the pond. 

“Tired?” Gabe asks into Jesse’s hair. 

“I’m alright,” Jesse says. He turns in Gabe’s embrace, lifting his arms to circle Gabe’s shoulders. “I’m just - I can’t believe we’re really doing this.”

The corner of Gabe’s mouth twitches up. “We deserve this.”

Jesse leans in and kisses Gabe sweetly. “We’re doing it right this time.”

Gabe’s smile falters slightly as Jesse pulls away. He reaches up to push some hair out of Jesse’s face. Jesse’s brow knits together. 

“What is it?” Jesse asks, his own expression falling once he sees Gabe’s. 

“Do you trust me?” Gabe asks. Jesse pulls away a little - stepping back to get a good look at Gabe’s face. 

“I don’t like the sound of that question.”

Gabe takes Jesse’s left arm into both his hands, turning it over to run a finger up the inside of Jesse’s wrist. Jesse curls his fingers into his palm. 

“You remember what we said back at Delos?” Gabe asks. “They can track you. The technology is in your arm - but we could…”

“What are you proposing exactly?”

Gabe flattens his palm against the inside of Jesse’s forearm and looks up to meet Jesse’s eyes. 

“We have to remove your arm,” Gabe says. Jesse jerks out of his grip, taking another step back. 

“You want to cut off my arm?”

“If there was another way -”

“Instead of  _ cutting off my arm _ ?”

“Jesse, listen to me. The only other option is going back to Delos, and if they aren’t already on our trail now, there’s no way they’ll let us get out of there again,” Gabe says, his voice low and urgent. Jesse looks away, a muscle working in his jaw. “If there was another way, Jesse, believe me…”

Gabe lets his words trail off. He did everything he could do himself before they left Delos, scrambling their tracks just enough, but he didn’t have the knowledge of the means to fix it for good. Maybe they could have tracked down the two Livestock workers who had already helped Jesse, but they didn’t have time. And now, it’s too late. They’re here, and they have to figure it out. Gabe practically holds his breath, watching Jesse. After another moment, Jesse finally looks back at Gabe, his eyes full of resolve. 

“Alright. I trust you.”

Gabe exhales, a weight lifting off his chest. He ducks forward and presses a light, quick kiss to the corner of Jesse’s mouth. Jesse closes his eyes. He doesn’t exactly relax into Gabe’s touch, but he doesn’t pull away either. 

“There’s a town nearby. We can get some supplies and come back here. It’ll be okay.”

Jesse nods stiffly. 

“If it’s what I have to do to actually be free - I’ll do what I have to do,” he says, turning his head to look Gabe in the eye. There’s a fire there, a determination that makes Gabe’s heart swell. He loves Jesse so much. He takes Jesse’s left hand and squeezes it between both of his own. 

“I’ll be right there the whole time.”

“You better be,” Jesse says, stepping in close again. He cups Gabe’s cheek with his left hand. “Good thing I shoot with my right hand, huh?”

“Awfully convenient,” Gabe nods. He turns his head and presses a kiss into Jesse’s palm. Jesse curls his fingers slightly, as if to hold onto the feeling. 

“So,” Jesse says. “We gonna get this over with, or what?”

“Let's give the horses another few minutes,” Gabe says. “And maybe give ourselves a little time to catch our breath too, yeah?”

“Sure,” Jesse says. He rubs his right palm over his left forearm, subconsciously, as if he’s trying to imagine the feeling. 

“Come sit?” Gabe asks, nodding towards a patch of shade alongside the pond. 

They settle into the soft grass, Jesse sitting between Gabe’s sprawled legs, his back against Gabe’s chest, Gabe’s back slouched up against a tree trunk. Gabe lightly trails his fingers over Jesse’s left arm. He can feel Jesse’s breathing lengthen and even out. 

“What do you remember about your daughter?” Gabe asks. Jesse exhales. 

“Not a lot,” Jesse says. “How she died mostly.”

Gabe reaches down to tangle his fingers with Jesse’s and gives his hand a gentle squeeze. Neither of them say anything for a long time. 

“She’s young,” Jesse says. “Maybe about the age I lost my own mom - six or seven. She has hair like mine, dark brown. Freckles over her nose.”

“We’ll find her,” Gabe says, promises. Jesse tips his head back to look at Gabe. 

“And you’ll stick around?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Jesse,” Gabe says. “I never got around to having kids of my own, but. Well. I’m good with kids.”

Jesse gives him a small smile. “I believe that.”

“Yeah?” Gabe asks, surprised. Jesse nods. 

“Definitely,” he says. He shifts over onto his front, sprawling over Gabe’s chest. “You only look scary. You’re a real sweetheart underneath that rough exterior.”

“I look scary?” Gabe repeats, mock affronted. Jesse rolls his eyes. He stretches up the rest of the way to press a kiss to Gabe’s mouth. Gabe laughs into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Jesse’s shoulders to hold him close. Jesse keeps kissing him, lazily, lingering. Gabe lets his eyes slide closed, enjoying it. He feels free, freer than he’s felt in years. He knows, without a doubt, that he’s doing the right thing. 

“Can we get a little house?” Jesse asks quietly after a moment, his lips still practically pressed against Gabe’s mouth. “Some land? We could - we could be homesteaders. Live a quiet life.”

“I thought you wanted to get out?”

“I did. I do. But - I don’t know. I like the idea of making a home, too. I’m tired of feeling like I aint got a place to land. I want something that’s mine. Ours.”

Gabe finds himself smiling. “I’d like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Jesse. It sounds perfect.”

Jesse kisses him again and Gabe closes his eyes, imagining living out the rest of his days with Jesse at his side. He couldn’t think of a better way. 

Jesse slides down Gabe’s chest, using both hands to ruck up his shirt to get at his skin underneath. He kisses over Gabe’s stomach as his hands unbutton Gabe’s pants. When he pulls Gabe’s dick out, Gabe lets his head fall back against the tree trunk. Jesse’s mouth is warm and wet as he works Gabe’s dick to hardness. His tongue rubs along the underside, teasing along the crest of the head of his cock, his hands circling the base. Gabe exhales and drops his chin to his chest to watch Jesse through heavy-lidded eyes. Jesse locks eyes with Gabe and holds his gaze as he sucks him off. His lips stretch around Gabe’s dick as he bobs his head to take more of him into his mouth. Jesse makes a little pleased sound around Gabe, eyes closing briefly as Gabe reaches down to run his fingers through Jesse’s hair. His hips twitch under Jesse’s hands. It doesn’t take much before Gabe is coming down Jesse’s throat, his moans echoing over the surface of the pond. Jesse pulls off, licking his lips. Gabe leans in quickly, wanting to share the taste. They go sprawling back in the short grass, kissing heatedly, Gabe tasting himself on Jesse’s tongue. Jesse pants into his mouth. Gabe can feel his erection rubbing up against his stomach. He presses Jesse back and shimmies down to return the favor, fumbling with Jesse’s pants in his haste. Jesse lets out a small gasp that might also be a laugh once Gabe gets his mouth around his cock. 

“Gabe,” Jesse breathes, arching up into Gabe’s mouth. His knuckles of one hand are pressed against his own mouth, stifling the breathy, pleased noises that fall from his lips as Gabe swallows him down, sloppy and eager. Gabe wants to make it good for Jesse, wants to show how grateful he is for Jesse in every little movement. He closes his eyes and takes his cock down as far as he can. “Gabe - Gabe - Gabe,  _ yeah _ , Gabe, oh god -”

Yeah, Gabe could happily live the rest of his life like this. 

Eventually, Jesse and Gabe get back on their horses and head east to where Gabe remembers seeing a little settlement on the map back at Delos: Las Mudas. Even if there aren’t any active hosts there, there should still be some manner of supplies that they can make use of. The sun passes over its highest point before they spot the settlement on the horizon. The heat has come out in full force, a hot, dry breeze stirring up the dust around their feet as they ride into the settlement. A few townspeople look at them curiously as they ride up but nobody draws their weapons. Las Mudas is close-knit and protective, but most of the folks there aren’t willing to start any trouble unless someone starts trouble with them. 

Gabe spots what looks like a general store and gestures at Jesse to follow. They tether their horses and step into the store. It’s a cool reprieve from the heat of the sun outside. Gabe stands just inside the door, allowing himself a moment to let his eyes adjust to the change of light. Next to him, Jesse takes his hat off. Gabe hastily does the same and glances around the store. There aren’t a lot of goods on display, but hopefully they’ll be able to cobble together the supplies they need. 

A shopkeeper watches them from behind a counter. Gabe gives him a little wave. 

“Hey - we’re just passing through, looking for a few supplies,” Gabe says. “We have cash.”

The shopkeeper gives him a look. “ _ No _ _ hablo Inglés, señor. _ ”

“Oh,” Gabe says, blinking. He turns to Jesse, who raises his eyebrows. 

“What?”

“I don’t speak Spanish.”

“Your last name is Reyes,” Jesse says incredulously. Gabe huffs. 

“My grandmother basically scared me out of speaking it at home,” Gabe says. “I took German in school.”

“German?” Jesse says, barely suppressing a laugh. Gabe huffs. 

“Listen -”

“No, no. It’s alright. I speak Spanish,” Jesse says. He walks over to the shopkeeper, shaking his head a little. “ _ German _ , honestly.”

Jesse starts talking to the shopkeeper animatedly in Spanish. Gabe might not be able to speak Spanish ( _ well _ , he can’t speak Spanish  _ well _ , he mentally adds, too late), but he can certainly understand it. With Jesse’s help, Gabe manages to get nearly all the supplies he’s looking for, and for a reasonable price. Jesse, being the charming fucker that he is, also gets a tip about a place in town where they might be able to rent a room for the night. Jesse looks over his shoulder at Gabe. 

“What d’you say, Gabe? Think we could risk a night in luxury? Or, well, whatever qualifies for luxury in this place?” Jesse asks. Gabe grimaces. 

“We probably shouldn’t risk it,” he says, apologetic. He‘s already starting to get anxious about this whole thing. He wishes he had a better plan. He’s kicking himself for not thinking it through better before they left Delos. He should’ve been more prepared. “Maybe… later?”

Jesse makes a face but nods. He turns back to the shopkeeper and thanks him. Together, Gabe and Jesse take their supplies out to load up the horses. They decide against trading their horses in favor of making good time back to their spot by the pond. Just as they’re nearly done loading up the horses, Jesse holds out the newly purchased hatchet to Gabe, meeting his eyes across Gabe’s saddle. Gabe swallows and takes the hatchet to secure it with the rest of their supplies. 

What better plan could there be?

They ride back out of Las Mudas, retracing their steps to the pond and the copse of oak trees. Neither Jesse nor Gabe say anything for the duration of the ride. Gabe keeps replaying their flight out of the Delos compound in his head - what could he have done differently? What else could he have done to avoid this situation? Gabe keeps coming up empty; there was essentially nothing he could have done on his own to improve their situation. He would’ve had to get other people involved - and that was far too much of a liability. There were already too many people who know too much about Gabe and Jesse, they couldn’t afford to add more to the list. 

The sun is nearing the horizon when Jesse and Gabe make it back to the pond. Jesse tethers the horses next to the pond while Gabe sweeps the area, paranoid that someone from Delos might have caught up with them and are lying in wait. Everything is as they left it; pristine and undisturbed. Gabe goes back to Jesse. 

“We should be okay for now,” Gabe says. “But we shouldn’t stay for too long.”

Jesse nods. 

“You wanna get this over with then?” Jesse asks, holding up his left arm. Gabe grimaces. 

“Jesse -” Gabe starts to say but Jesse interrupts him, dropping his arm back at his side. 

“No, listen. You said it yourself: we can’t go back to Delos. So we gotta do this ourselves,” Jesse says, his jaw set. “I trust you to do it right.”

Gabe swallows thickly. “Okay.”

They build a fire. Jesse sets up their bedrolls while Gabe gets their other supplies ready. Gabe doesn’t know what to expect, exactly, but he knows he can’t hesitate. He sets the blade of the hatchet into the fire. 

“How do you want me?” Jesse asks. The setting sun is casting his face in gold and warm pink, giving him an otherworldly quality. He looks young, handsome. Gabe’s chest aches. 

“You should probably lie down. Arm out.”

Jesse picks a spot on the other side of the fire, well away from the horses and where he laid out their bedrolls. He stretches out on the sparse grass, extending his left arm, resting his other arm across his stomach. He doesn’t look at Gabe, his eyes instead on the wash of colors streaking the sky. 

Gabe glances at the hatchet. The metal is starting to glow. He slips his belt from his pants and goes over to Jesse. Jesse flinches as Gabe picks up Jesse’s arm. 

“Sorry - tourniquet,” Gabe says, holding up the belt. He watches Jesse’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Jesse gives him a smile that’s just in the wrong side of forced. 

“No - I’m sorry. Just a bit jumpy.”

“Understandable,” Gabe says. He hesitates. “We don’t have to do this -”

“Gabe,” Jesse says, his voice steadying, sounding more sure. “You know we have to.”

Gabe lets his breath out. Jesse reaches up to touch his cheek, the fingers of his left hand stroking over Gabe’s facial hair. 

“I trust you.”

Gabe turns his head to press a kiss into Jesse’s palm. Jesse gives him a small smile and lowers his arm back to the ground. 

“Let’s do this.”

Gabe tightens the belt around Jesse’s arm over his bicep. He pulls it tight until Jesse shifts on the grass. He gets up to get the hatchet. The blade is glowing a soft orange that begins to fade to a deep red as Gabe moves back to Jesse. Jesse’s eyes flick to Gabe and then he goes back to staring at the sky. 

Gabe kneels next to Jesse. He presses his left palm against Jesse’s left shoulder. He can feel Jesse tense under his hand. Gabe swallows. He swings the hatchet. 

Jesse screams. The sound cuts through the air, startling the horses. An acrid smell fills Gabe’s nose. He makes himself look, to make sure - the hatchet is buried in the earth, the flat of the blade pressed up against the stump of Jesse’s left arm, a curl of smoke rising from his flesh. 

Jesse’s chest heaves as he tries to breathe through his sobs. Gabe yanks the hatchet back up, out of the way, but it doesn’t seem to give Jesse any relief. He’s almost hyperventilating, his eyes squeezed shut and tears leaking over his cheeks. Gabe works quickly, lifting what’s left of Jesse’s arm and wrapping the bandages around the stump as quickly and tightly as possible. He releases the tourniquet and gathers Jesse to his chest, cradling him in his lap. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Gabe murmurs into Jesse’s hair. Jesse clings to his shirt with his one remaining hand, still sobbing in great heaving gasps, his whole body shaking. Gabe worries that he might be going into shock - what can he do if that happens? Gabe knows what to do when it’s a person - a  _ human  _ goes into shock, but someone like Jesse… He doesn’t want to go back to Delos, not now, not when they’ve come so far. But what if that becomes their only option?

Gabe closes his eyes and rocks Jesse tenderly as his sobs slow and even out, until he’s just shaking gently against Gabe’s sternum. 

※

The old workshops in Delos have largely been abandoned as they’ve consolidated their space and as technology has improved over the years. Rather than updating the lower levels, they chose instead to use them as storage or backup facilities. They have remained mostly untouched, a relic of the past, of how things used to be at Delos, back before Overwatch joined forces with the struggling company and brought it back to the top. Only a few people have access to these areas, and even fewer people have an excuse to go there. 

Jack barges into one of the unused workrooms in one of the abandoned lower levels. Dr. O’Deorain barely looks up, watching a small rabbit intently as it hops across the workbench. 

“I’m working,” she says. 

“We have a situation,” Jack says. Dr. O’Deorain doesn’t turn around. 

“You were hired to handle  _ situations _ ,” she says. Jack ignores the implication behind her words; Dr. O’Deorain’s relationship with Overwatch has never been easy. She’s resented the Delos board’s decision to bring in Overwatch since the day it was suggested, Jack knows this. And he knows that  _ she _ knows that Overwatch has done a lot more for Delos than handle security. But now is not the time to press the issue. 

“This is different,” Jack says. “This is major.”

Dr. O’Deorain lets out an exasperated sigh. She runs a finger between the rabbit’s ears. The rabbit goes still, though its nose still twitches. Dr. O’Deorain scoops up the rabbit, depositing it into her lap, and finally turns to face Jack. 

“What is so pressing that you have to interrupt my work?” she asks. 

“It’s Gabriel,” Jack says. “He’s run off with one of the hosts.”

Instead of the look of anger that Jack expects to wash over her face, Dr. O’Deorain looks amused. Jack blinks at her. 

“Did he,” she says, petting the rabbit slowly. She looks unbelievably unconcerned by this news. 

“Yeah - he did. He took out a whole section of the park to do it, too, and now nobody can find him,” Jack says. He waves Gabe’s tablet at her - it took the better part of the morning for the idiot techs in IT Security to crack Gabe’s passwords, but they were eventually able to at least pull his access logs. Dr. O’Deorain raises an eyebrow. 

“How did he manage that?” she asks. Jack spreads his hands, making a frustrated noise. 

“I don’t know, he went into the mainframe and fiddled with something he shouldn’t have.”

“Fascinating.”

“Why aren’t you more upset by this?” Jack demands. Dr. O’Deorain sets the rabbit back down on the workbench. With a tap between its ears, the rabbit hops back into motion. 

“I trust Gabriel,” she says. 

“He disabled the host’s explosives. He’s run off with trade secrets. There’s no telling where he could’ve gone -”

“Did you track the host?” Dr. O’Deorain interrupts him. Jack makes a face. 

“Of course we tried tracking the host. The signal was all over the place thanks to Gabe’s meddling, and then it went dark completely,” Jack says. Dr. O’Deorain’s lips curl into a smile. 

“Well, that is problematic.”

“Look, I don’t know why you’re not worried about this, but we have to get Gabe back here. I know how Gabe is. How he was about  _ this _ host in particular. He’s not thinking straight, he can’t be,” Jack says. “He’s probably gotten himself all wrapped up in his little fantasy, and it’s going to suck him under. It’s going to destroy him. It nearly destroyed him 30 years ago.”

Dr. O’Deorain doesn’t say anything for a long time, her eyes watching Jack with detached interest. She doesn’t say anything for so long that Jack’s impatience gets the better of him - as he opens his mouth to speak again, Dr. O’Deorain finally speaks. Jack closes his mouth with a snap, annoyed. 

“Perhaps a flight of fantasy is something Gabriel needs right now,” she says, sounding eminently reasonable, her dry voice calm just so as to needle at Jack more. Jack grits his teeth. “Neither of you have had a meaningful vacation in some time, if your personnel files are to be believed. You take time off more frequently, but Gabriel doesn’t take any time at all.”

“That’s what you think this is?” Jack says incredulously. “A fucking  _ vacation _ ?”

“I’m not sure why you jump so quickly to corporate espionage, Jack,” she says. Jack drops Gabe’s tablet on the workbench. The sound startles the rabbit, which bounds over to hide under the crook of Dr. O’Deorain’s arm. She looks up at him mildly, unblinking. 

“Look at his tablet, Moira,” Jack says. “Look at all the shit that’s on it - he was looking for a way out, for a long time. He doesn’t care if he blows us up along the way.”

“Do you really believe that, Jack?”

Jack doesn’t say anything for a long moment, a muscle working in his jaw. 

He’s not sure what he believes any more. In the years, the  _ decades _ that he and Gabe worked side by side, they’ve grown apart. They were inseparable during their stint in the army, but in the civilian world, their differences only became more and more evident. They started Overwatch together, but Jack never got the impression that Gabe’s heart was in the venture. It seemed, sometimes, like Gabe was going through the motions. Which isn’t to say that Gabe didn’t work hard; he worked his ass off. Jack knows, without a doubt, that they would not be where they are today if Gabe hadn’t been pulling more than his share of the weight. Gabe didn’t complain. They fought, sure, but it was always about what was best for Overwatch. 

It never occurred to Jack that maybe Gabe wasn’t happy. How could he not be? They’ve accomplished everything they’ve set out to do, and more. What more could Gabe possibly want? 

“We can’t just let him wander around the park with a rogue host,” Jack says. 

“Why not?” Dr. O’Deorain shrugs. “He knows the park as well - or better - than anyone at Delos. He’s not going to bother the guests. And if the sector remains offline, then we won’t have to worry about the guests venturing that far anyway.”

“Are you seriously suggesting we just - let him?”

“A vacation, Jack. Let him have a vacation.”

“And what happens when he doesn’t want to come home?”

Dr. O’Deorain shrugs. She gently pulls the rabbit out from under her arm and sets it back in her lap. It wriggles a little in protest, but one stroke between the ears makes the rabbit go still again. Jack can’t help but wonder if it’s still scared, in spite of its calm outward appearance. 

“He’ll come back when he’s ready.”

Jack makes a frustrated noise. He snatches Gabe’s tablet back up off the workbench. 

“This is a bad idea,” he says. “Just you wait.”

He turns to leave. Just as he’s about to walk through the door, Dr. O’Deorain calls out to him. 

“Jack,” she says. Jack pauses but doesn’t turn around. “Which host was it?”

“McCree,” he says. “The Deadlock whore.”

“Interesting.”

Jack shakes his head. He pushes open the door and steps through, letting the door slam behind him.


	15. Blackwatch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe and Jesse travel across Westworld, cleaning up messes as they go.

Gabe closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. A breeze picks up a trace of smoke, leaving an ashy taste on Gabe’s tongue. They’ve come all this way. They’re so close, Gabe can practically taste it. 

※

Gabe and Jesse have made a name for themselves. They’ve criss-crossed Westworld, from Sweetwater to Pariah and everything in between, rooting out bad guys and cleaning up as much as they can before they move on to the next place. Their reputation precedes them: their tactics are not exactly clean, not exactly pretty, but they get the job done. At the end of the day, the bad guys don’t win. 

They become known as Blackwatch: shadowy protectors, occasionally ruthless, always effective. While some settlements welcome Gabe and Jesse with open arms, others regard them suspiciously. It doesn’t bother either of them. There’s work to be done. 

They never stay in one place for too long, which suits Gabe just fine. Even though it’s been months since they left Delos behind, Gabe can’t shake the feeling that someone from Delos is right on their tails. They must have questions. There’s no way Gabe’s disappearance didn’t go unnoticed. On the other hand, though, it’s been so long that Gabe would be surprised, at this point, that anyone would come calling for them. Still, he’s always looking over his shoulder, half-expecting to see someone there to drag him back to the real world. 

It feels less and less real, though. What they’re doing here… They’re doing good things. They’re not making trouble. Jesse only wants one thing, and Gabe is doing his best to help him find it. That feels important. What is left for Gabe out there?

Her name is Winnifred - Winnie for short. The longer they’ve been out of Jesse’s loop, the more memories come back to him. He lies awake at night, tucked into Gabe’s side, staring up at the stars, telling Gabe stories about what his life was like before he was assigned to the Deadlock loop, before he was a whore, even before he was a gun for hire. He tells Gabe about bringing Winnie to this place, in search of a new life, a fresh beginning. 

“I know it ain’t real,” Jesse says, one of those nights, tracing light circles over Gabe’s sternum with his crude metal left arm. They’d had a blacksmith help them cobble it together a couple weeks back, and Gabe had done some elementary wiring to get it to move. It wasn’t elegant, but it was functional. Jesse was still getting used to it. “I know it’s just what they gave me when they made me. But that was - that feeling was the closest to real I ever had, before I met you. I feel like… Like if I could get back there, my life would be complete.”

Gabe squeezes Jesse gently, turning his head to press a kiss to his temple. 

“We’ll get you there,” Gabe says. Jesse tilts his head back to look at Gabe, his eyes shining in the moonlight. 

“What about you, Gabe?” Jesse asks. “You’ve been an angel, letting me drag you all over god’s creation. What do you want when this is all over?”

Gabe shakes his head a little. Jesse props himself up on his elbow to look at Gabe directly, his eyes scanning his face in that way that makes Gabe feel like he’s under a microscope. He can’t hide anything from Jesse. He doesn’t want to. 

“I just want to be with you,” Gabe says. “I just want you to be happy.”

“That can’t be it,” Jesse says, making a face. He leans down to kiss Gabe anyway. 

“It is,” Gabe says honestly, when Jesse finally pulls away. “I’ll feel like I’d have done something right, for once.”

“I dunno how I got so lucky,” Jesse says, shaking his head. He leans in to kiss Gabe again. Gabe wraps him up in his arms and holds him close, needing to feel the weight of his body against his. 

_ Who can say with any certainty what is real and what isn’t?  _ Gabe thinks, fleeting. And - at the end of the day - does it matter? His feelings are real. That’s what matters. 

Gabe and Jesse track down the organization that has made settlers’ lives hell for years. Known only as LumériCo, they were a group of men who believed it was their divine duty to cleanse the west of unsavory, uncivilized people and fulfill their dreams of Manifest Destiny. According to the sparse information that Gabe and Jesse managed to uncover, LumériCo had left their mark on some of the most remote settlements, stealing children away for “re-education” and killing any people who got in their way. Most of the children were never seen again; the rumor was that the children were used as cheap mining labor, their small bodies able to fit through ravines that grown men couldn’t. LumériCo kept to the mountains, only venturing down when supplies were low, and always leaving death and destruction in their wake. 

Nobody ever saw them coming - nobody ever believed the rumors. The folks left behind from a LumériCo raid were generally unreliable. 

Gabe remembers, though, someone who might be able to help them. Jesse balks, at first, but Gabe points out that it was unlikely she’d remember them too, given the number of years that have passed. 

It takes some doing. Sombra is not an easy person to find by any means, but by relying on Gabe’s memory and Jesse’s, they track her down just outside of Sweetwater, just like all those years ago. She ambushes them on a trail that is virtually unchanged from the way Gabe remembers it. 

“Olivia, wait,” Gabe says, lying flat on the ground, his hands up as she points her pistol at him. The sound of her first name - her  _ real  _ first name - throws her off completely. Gabe sees her gun wobble. “I know how to get your brother back,” Gabe says. Something flashes in her eyes. “But you have to trust us.”

“ _ Chingate _ ,” she spits. Gabe shakes his head a little. 

“Los Muertos has been working with LumériCo, funneling kids right into LumériCo’s hands,” Gabe says. “You know as well as I do that kids don’t come back from that. Your brother - Miguel. He’s headed that way if we don’t stop them.”

“I want to get my daughter back,” Jesse says, stepping towards them, hands up, holding Olivia’s suspicious gaze. “If we work together, we can all have our families back.”

Olivia swears again and drops her gun arm to her side. She looks away. “Alright. What do we do?”

Even after all that, Sombra - Olivia - still doesn’t trust them completely. Gabe can’t blame her - after all, she’s just following her programming. But Gabe and Jesse have blown up the Deadlock gorge before. They’ve got experience on their side. They know how to do this. They outline their plan for a skeptical Olivia, down to the last detail. She agrees, begrudgingly. She takes them to the gorge and, suddenly, standing overlooking the Los Muertos camp below, Gabe has a sharp moment of deja vu. He knows how the sequence of events is going to play out even before it happens. His eyes slide to Jesse. Jesse meets his gaze and nods; he knows it too. 

It’s like a dance. Olivia infiltrates the camp and gets the children to safety while Gabe and Jesse slip down into the camp and set the charges off one by one. They work with such precision that they don’t even have to draw their weapons; the men guarding the camp don’t see the attack coming at all. The men sleeping in their tents don’t have time to wake up before the camp is blown to pieces. 

Gabe and Jesse run through the ravine, the heat of the explosion at their backs, the acrid smell of smoke filling the air. When they’re far enough away, Jesse pushes Gabe up against the wall of the ravine and kisses him hard. Gabe can practically feel Jesse’s heart pounding against his own chest. 

“I could do that again and again and never get tired of it,” Jesse says against Gabe’s mouth. He kisses him deeply, tongue sweeping between his lips, his hand coming up to tug on Gabe’s curls, which have grown back flecked with grey. Gabe makes a pleased little noise in the back of his throat. 

“Hopefully we don’t have to,” Gabe says, kissing Jesse back, letting Jesse crowd him against the wall of the gorge. 

“Yeah,” Jesse breathes. “But if I had to, I’d at least want to do it with you.”

Gabe shakes his head a little and kisses Jesse again. Jesse nips at his lips, panting into his mouth, running high on adrenaline. It’s infectious. Gabe laughs into Jesse’s mouth as Jesse’s hands find Gabe’s belt, pulling open his pants. 

They fuck against the wall of the gorge. Jesse braces against the stone with his ass out, his pants pushed down just far enough so that Gabe can fuck into him from behind. Jesse’s metal fingers crumble the rocks as he scrabbles for enough purchase to push back. Gabe holds his hips tight, his forehead pressed against the back of Jesse’s neck as he watches his cock disappear into Jesse’s ass. 

It’s not like the first time they fucked here at all, but it’s almost better. 

Jesse shoves his hips back and Gabe cries out. He spills inside of Jesse, holding Jesse’s ass flush to his hips, his own thighs shaking. Gabe stays there for just a moment before he drops to his knees, ignoring the ache in his joints so he can take Jesse’s cock down his throat. He raises his eyes to look up at Jesse. Jesse’s watching him with eyes full of wonder, his mouth hanging open slightly, lips curled up at the corners. His hand comes up to stroke through Gabe’s hair. 

“Gabe, Gabe, Gabe,” Jesse pants. “ _ Gabe _ !”

Eventually, they meet back up with Olivia. She still doesn’t trust them, exactly, but the skepticism has all but vanished from her eyes. 

“So,” she says, arms wrapped around her little brother. “What now?”

※

It took another few weeks after they blew up the Los Muertos camp, but they’re here now. They found LumériCo’s base of operations in the mountains. It was almost laughably easy to find once they knew what they were looking for, but they had to be careful. They had to be sure. 

“Are you ready for this?” Gabe asks as they crouch on a ledge overlooking the LumériCo settlement that’s tucked into a mountain pass. Smoke rises from their forge, thick and dark, coating the back of Gabe’s throat. Jesse nods stiffly without taking his eyes off the cluster of buildings below. 

“I’ve been ready,” Jesse says. Gabe puts a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. 

“Jesse, whatever happens…” Gabe starts to say. Jesse blinks and looks back at Gabe. 

“We’re going to do this, Gabe. We’re gonna end it,” Jesse says fiercely. “She’s down there, I know she is.”

Gabe swallows and nods. They’ve trusted Jesse’s instinct all this time, and it’s gotten them to this point. There’s no reason to doubt him now. But Gabe has to wonder - what if they’ve gotten it wrong? What if Delos is just waiting to pull the rug out from underneath them? He pushes the doubts away. He can’t afford to think like this. 

“I’ll be right behind you,” Gabe says. Jesse ducks forward and presses a kiss to Gabe’s lips. 

“Thank you,” Jesse says, his voice going softer, full of emotion. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Gabe’s heart swells. He shakes his head a little, not trusting himself to speak. He leans towards Jesse again and kisses him back. There is no reason to doubt Jesse, not after all this time. 

By all accounts, two men shouldn’t be able to take out the LumériCo operation. But Gabe and Jesse aren’t normal men. They have advantages that nobody else in Westworld has, and they’re not above using them. 

It goes smoothly until it doesn’t. Gabe finds the group of children crowded into what isn’t much more than a tiny shed. There’s maybe half a dozen of them, all scrawny and covered in a thick layer of black coal dust. They shy away from the door when Gabe bursts in, huddling close together, safer as one than separate. 

“It’s alright,” Gabe says. “I’m here to get you out of here. Lets go.”

None of the children move immediately, eyeing Gabe with suspicion which, in retrospect, Gabe should’ve expected. A loud noise rings out from a nearby building that sets Gabe’s teeth on edge. They don’t have a lot of time. 

“I know you don’t know me, but I want to get you all back home. To your families,” Gabe says. “Please, we have to move quickly.”

One of the little girls steps forward and Gabe knows suddenly, with certainty, that she must be Winnie; she has the same fire in her dark eyes that Jesse has. 

“How d’we know you ain’t just gonna take us somewhere worse than this?” she demands. 

“You don’t,” Gabe says. “But I promise that it’s better than here.”

The little girl looks at him critically, her eyes piercing. Another noise that sounds like an enormous crack cuts through the air. They’re running out of time. Gabe holds his hand out to Winnie. 

“Please,” he says. “It’s not safe here.”

Winnie sets her jaw, ignoring Gabe’s extended hand, but she steps forward, herding the other children with her. 

“Stay close,” she says, not to Gabe, but to the others. Gabe steps out of the doorway to let them pass. Winnie brings up the rear. Gabe touches her shoulder to stop her. She ducks out from under his hand. Gabe puts his hands up. 

“You see that tree all the way over there?” Gabe asks, pointing across a wide-open space that narrows into one of the only exits from the mountain pass. More smoke is choking the air, blocking out the sun. Winnie follows his finger then looks back at Gabe. She gives him a little nod. “You run there as fast as you can, alright? I’ll be right behind you.”

An explosion shakes the ground. It’s too close. 

“Go!” Gabe says. Winnie turns and runs on bare feet, kicking up dust behind her as she herds the other children towards the scraggly pine Gabe had pointed out. He can barely make out the shadow any more as the smoke fills the sky. He spares a glance over his shoulder at the destruction they’re leaving in their wake. They’ve really done it. Gabe scrambles to catch up with the children. 

The ground shakes under his feet again. It’s not the result of an explosion - it’s something deeper. Gabe had grown up in California, where things like earthquakes and wildfires were regular course. He knows what’s coming. 

“Don’t stop running!” Gabe calls out to the kids stumbling ahead of him. They just have to clear the pass. They’re so close - the pine tree is getting closer, Gabe can practically count the individual branches from here, even through the smoke -

The rocks cascade down the mountainside as the ground rumbles under their feet. Gabe watches as the children practically leap past the pine tree into the wide-open safety beyond. He counts - four, five, six - and then Winnie’s through - they made it -  _ they made it  _ -

A boulder connects with Gabe’s shoulder, sending him tumbling to the side. He tries to break his fall with one arm, but another rock collides with the side of Gabe’s head and everything goes black. 

※

“Gabe!” Jesse’s desperate yell filters through Gabe’s unconsciousness. Jesse’s voice breaks as he yells again. “Gabe!”

Gabe tries to move, to call out to Jesse, but his body doesn’t seem to be working. As his consciousness comes back to him, the pain makes itself known. Gabe wheezes. 

“Gabe! Gabe -”

Gabe’s fingers scrabble against rocks that seem to have him pinned to the narrow wall of the mountain pass. Ash and rock dust rain down from above. Gabe can just barely make out the shadowy branches of the pine tree above him, coated in grey, looking like a ghost. Gabe lets his eyes slip closed again. At least the children are safe. 

“Gabe - fuck, oh my god, Gabe, can you hear me?”

A warm hand touches Gabe’s cheek. Gabe pries open his eyes again. Jesse is hovering close to Gabe’s face, his brow creased with shock and worry. 

“Hey, there you are,” Jesse says, his voice shaking, even though Gabe can tell he’s straining to keep it steady. He glances down at Gabe’s body. “We need to get you out of here.”

“’m okay,” Gabe says. He turns his head into Jesse’s palm as best as he can, letting his eyes slide closed again. “The kids got out. You can - you can go.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” Jesse says, suddenly forceful. 

“Jesse.”

“No - we’ve come all this way,” Jesse says. His hand drops away from Gabe’s cheek. Gabe immediately misses the touch. If he’s going to die here, he wants to at least feel Jesse close. Instead, Gabe feels the rocks shift. It makes the pain shift in his body. He gasps. “I got you. It’s okay - I’m gonna get you out of here.”

“Jesse -” Gabe starts to say. A shadow falls across Gabe’s face. Gabe looks up with difficulty to see Winnie standing atop the pile of rocks, one hand braced against the pine tree. Gabe swallows hard, gathering his strength. “It’s not safe here,” he says, directing his words up to the little girl. Jesse glances over his shoulder, following Gabe’s gaze. Jesse’s eyes widen. 

“You heard him,” Jesse says. “It’s not safe -”

“He saved us,” Winnie says. She comes down the rocks carefully and looks up at Jesse. “I want to help.”

Jesse bites his lip, his eyes shiny with tears. “Just - be careful.”

Together, father and daughter dig Gabe out of the rubble. Gabe loses consciousness again at some point, Jesse’s face going fuzzy then fading completely. 

※

Gabe wakes again much later. It’s dark, the sun having set a while ago. There’s a fire crackling nearby and Gabe can make out a few shadows against the light. He shifts and immediately regrets it; his body aches, his head is pounding. 

“Hey - don’t move, alright?” Jesse’s voice says somewhere above him. His face comes into view, half-shadowed in the firelight. “Just take it easy.”

“The kids…?” Gabe croaks. 

“They’re okay. They’re all okay. Most of ‘em are asleep,” Jesse says. He kneels next to Gabe and pushes some of his hair off his forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” Gabe says. His mouth feels cottony, dry. “‘Sthere water?”

“Yeah - yeah, hang on.”

Jesse gets up and Gabe closes his eyes again. He tries to take stock of his injuries - he almost definitely has some kind of concussion, in addition to being badly bruised all over. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had cracked a rib or two. Flexing his fingers experimentally, Gabe realizes how much of the park’s protections he had been relying on, albeit subconsciously. He knew, in the back of his head, that the guests couldn’t get hurt here - and he was effectively a guest. The only problem is that he’s been off book for months. Guests weren’t supposed to stay in the park for this long, and they were supposed to stick to the pre-written narratives. Gabe wonders vaguely if this is actually Delos’s plan to get him back - hurt him just enough to need to seek medical attention - or if he’s simply just unlucky. 

“Here,” Jesse says a moment later, a canteen in his hand. Gabe peels open his eyes to look up at Jesse. “Do you think you can sit up?”

Gabe grimaces. It takes some doing, and all of his bones protest, but - with Jesse’s help - Gabe manages to get mostly upright. His head swims. Jesse helps him take a sip from the canteen, his palm pressed against Gabe’s back, between his shoulder blades. The water slides down Gabe’s throat like some kind of magical healing potion. He takes another gulp. 

“Easy now,” Jesse says. Gabe can hear the worried note in his voice. He lowers the canteen. 

“It’s okay,” Gabe says. “I’m - I’m okay.”

Jesse looks at him skeptically. “You just say that ‘cause you haven’t had a chance to see what a mess you look,” he says. Jesse shakes his head a little. “Olivia went to get some medicine from the town nearby. She’ll be back in the morning.”

“Jesse,” Gabe says. He reaches for Jesse’s flesh arm, his own arm feeling clumsy and heavy. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Jesse says, a muscle working in his jaw. “If something happened to you…”

“Something did happen to me,” Gabe points out. Jesse makes a little frustrated noise. 

“You know what I mean. Your people would come for you, and we’d have to start all over again,” Jesse says. Gabe doesn’t say anything for a long moment, something he’s left unsaid clicking into place. He swallows around the lump in his throat and gives Jesse’s arm a squeeze. 

“We don’t have to worry about that right now,” Gabe says. “You got me out.”

Jesse still doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t get a chance to say anything because another, smaller figure steps into the firelight. 

“Is he alright?” Winnie asks. Jesse half-turns to look at her. 

“Yeah. You can come talk to him if you want.”

After a moment, Winnie takes a couple steps to stand next to Jesse. She looks down at Gabe, her sharp eyes catching the light of the fire. 

“How come you saved us?” she asks. 

“It was the right thing to do,” Gabe says. He takes another sip from the canteen. The water feels good sliding down his throat, but he doesn’t want to drink too quickly, lest he make himself sick. Winnie looks from Gabe to Jesse. 

“How come you didn’t come sooner?” she asks. A pained look crosses Jesse’s face. 

“It took a long time to find you,” Jesse says. Winnie studies his face for a moment, her eyes flicking back to Gabe. “Why don’t you get some rest? We got some distance to cover tomorrow.”

“Where are we going?” Winnie asks. 

“Home,” Jesse says. Winnie frowns, a little furrow appearing between her eyebrows that looks just like Jesse’s. She turns away to go back to the other children huddled together on the other side of the fire. Jesse watches her go. 

“She’s yours, isn’t she?” Gabe says after a long moment of silence. Jesse looks back at Gabe. The corner of his mouth quirks up. 

“You can tell, huh?”

“Does she know?” Gabe asks. Jesse shrugs. 

“Maybe. I haven’t… there hasn’t been a good opportunity to talk to her about it yet,” Jesse says, his eyes sliding towards the fire. Gabe reaches out to take Jesse’s hand again. He gives it a gentle squeeze. 

“You’ve got all the time in the world to catch up with her now,” Gabe says. “You’ll figure it out.”

Jesse glances at Gabe. His face is half-hidden in shadow, the flickering light of the fire only serving to further hide Jesse’s expression, but Gabe can tell by the set of Jesse’s shoulders that he’s unconvinced. Gabe squeezes his hand again, trying to be reassuring. 

“You ought to get some rest if you can,” Jesse says. “We gotta ride again tomorrow, and we can’t have you taking a tumble.”

“I’m not moving,” Gabe says. “Don’t worry about me.”

Jesse turns back to face Gabe fully. He leans down and brushes his lips over Gabe’s forehead. 

“I do, though,” Jesse murmurs. Gabe lets his eyes slip closed. His whole body hurts, he’s exhausted, but he feels safe here, under Jesse’s watchful gaze. “Love you. Get some rest,”

“Love you,” Gabe says. He feels Jesse shift his weight next to him as he settles into his seat on the ground next to Gabe’s bedroll. Jesse’s right hand strokes through Gabe’s curls slowly, gently, until Gabe falls asleep. 

※

The journey back to what passes for civilization takes its toll on Gabe. He’s not as young as he used to be, for starters, so he doesn’t bounce back nearly as fast as he’s used to. Add to that a concussion and a few broken ribs, and that’s a recipe for an exhausting and painful ride. Jesse insists that Gabe ride rather than walk, though Gabe isn’t convinced it’s that much better. Olivia shares her saddle with a set of twins, who take turns riding with her while the other trots alongside. One of the older kids rides Jesse’s horse with the two littlest perched on the saddle with her, Jesse leading the horse alongside Gabe’s. Winnie rides with Gabe. 

“I need someone to keep an eye on him,” Jesse tells her before they set off. Winnie nods seriously and scrambles up to sit in front of Gabe, her little legs dangling over one side of the saddle as she clings to the pommel, careful not to lean back against Gabe’s chest. She looks back up at Gabe periodically, checking on him just like her daddy told her to. Gabe is sure to give her a smile every time she looks, even if it comes off more like a grimace. 

Gabe keeps his mind off the persistent pain by watching Jesse and Winnie interact. Neither of them seem to know what to do with the other - for as much as Jesse was determined to find Winnie, now that he’s found her, he’s not sure what to do next. Winnie, for what it’s worth, seems to know who Jesse is, but - and maybe rightfully so - she’s a tough nut to crack. She won’t trust easily. She a quiet, thoughtful child. Strong-willed, stubborn, even. She watches Jesse with a critical eye. Gabe can feel her trying to figure out how she’s supposed to feel about him. 

But in the couple of days it takes them to get back to town, Winnie opens up more and more. She’s bright and curious and she asks questions - lots of questions. Gabe and Jesse take turns answering them. It’s almost like a game. Gabe can tell Jesse takes pleasure in answering Winnie’s unending questions. It feels like a step in the right direction. 

“Are you married?” she asks when they’re just a few miles away from town. Jesse glances up at her. 

“Me? Nah,” Jesse says. Winnie frowns. She looks over her shoulder at Gabe, then back down at Jesse. 

“Why not?” she asks. Jesse shrugs. 

“Dunno, never thought about it much, I guess. Never seemed like something I could have,” Jesse says. If there’s one thing that Jesse has made a point of, it’s being honest with Winnie. Gabe really respects that choice - it’ll go a long way to build that trust with her. 

Winnie frowns deeper. She looks back at Gabe again. He raises his eyebrows at her. 

“Just,” she says, then stops. 

“Just what?” Jesse asks. He flicks the bottom of her foot gently. Winnie squeaks and pulls her foot up further on the saddle. 

“Just seems like you’re already practically married,” she says. Jesse blinks. 

“Yeah?”

“With Gabe,” she says. Jesse blinks again, then his eyes go wide. 

“Oh - Jesus,” Jesse says, color rising to his cheeks. He reaches up and adjusts his hat, bringing down further over his forehead. He clears his throat. 

Gabe leans forward to stage whisper into Winnie’s ear, his eyes finding Jesse’s under his hat. His own heart is pounding in his throat - this isn’t something they’ve ever talked about, even after everything they’ve been through. Jesse meets Gabe’s eyes. 

“Look, you got him all flustered,” Gabe says. Winnie huffs. 

“I’m just saying! Y’all act like it,” she says. 

“How do you know that, hm?”

“I read stories. You make special eyes at each other. You’re doing it right now, even.”

Jesse clears his throat again. “Well.”

“It’s not something we’ve talked about,” Gabe says honestly. 

“But you love each other,” Winnie says. It’s not a question. Gabe gives her a soft little smile. 

“Yeah, we do.”

“A lot?”

“A lot,” Gabe says. Winnie falls quiet for a few moments, thoughtful. The sound of hoofbeats on the hard soil fill the silence. Gabe sneaks a glance at Jesse. The color is still high on his cheeks, but he’s got his own thoughtful expression to match his daughter’s. Gabe almost laughs. 

“What’s gonna happen when we get to town?” Winnie asks. Jesse looks up again, clearly relieved to be talking about something else. Gabe tries not to let his mind go to a negative place - would it be so bad to be married, after everything? 

“Well, we’re gonna try to find everyone’s families,” Jesse says. “Make sure everyone gets home safe and sound.”

“What about me?” Winnie asks. 

“What about you?”

“Well,” she says, then goes suddenly shy. She traces her finger over the stitching on the pommel to avoid looking at either Jesse or Gabe. “You’re my family, ain’t you?”

“Yeah,” Jesse says. He tips his hat back so he can look at her. 

“So,” she says, chewing on the words before she finally spits them out. “So - does that mean we get to go home too?”

Jesse’s face softens. 

“Yeah. We do.”

“With Gabe?” she asks,

“With Gabe,” Jesse says, nodding. Winnie half-turns to check with Gabe too. Gabe gives her a smile. 

“Alright,” she says, turning back to face forward. 

“Yeah? That okay with you?” Jesse asks, keeping his voice light, though Gabe can hear the anxious note behind his words. 

“Yeah,” Winnie says. 

“Okay. Alright. That’s settled then.”

Jesse whistles for the rest of the afternoon’s journey. 

Gabe and Jesse ride into town with Olivia and the kids as the sun is beginning to set. They head to the sheriff first thing. It takes some convincing, but eventually the sheriff believes Gabe and Jesse’s story about the LumériCo compound. 

They’re heroes. 

It’s fully dark by the time the last of the children is reunited with their family. The local innkeeper offers rooms to Gabe, Jesse, and Olivia, free of charge - he’s unspeakably grateful to have his own children back. Jesse tries to pay the man, but the innkeeper insists. They get two rooms. Olivia takes one, while Jesse and Gabe take the other. Winnie shuffles at the bottom of the stairs as Olivia disappears up at the top. 

“What’re you waiting for, hm?” Jesse asks. “Come on, lets sleep in a real bed for once.”

“I can come too?” Winnie asks. Jesse’s face softens. 

“‘Course you can. Come on now, help me get Gabe up the stairs,” Jesse says. 

“I’m not that broken,” Gabe says, even though he had been eyeing the stairs warily. The exhaustion is really starting to take its toll on Gabe, and the pull in his ribs has been growing sharper. 

“Mm, just to be sure then. Up we go.”

The three of them make slow progress up the stairs, Jesse spotting Gabe with a hand against the small of his back. Winnie trots ahead of them, glancing back as she goes, as if Gabe and Jesse might disappear if she doesn’t keep an eye on them. Gabe gives her a faint smile that’s more of a grimace. 

“We’re almost there,” she says. Gabe huffs his breath out in a little laugh. 

“I’m going to sleep forever,” Gabe says. 

“I think we’ve earned it,” Jesse says. 

The three of them make it to the room, which is a lot nicer than Gabe had expected, with an enormous bed taking up most of the space. He makes a beeline for it and sinks into a seat on the edge. 

“You’re gonna get the sheets all dusty,” Jesse complains as he closes the door behind them. 

“I can’t lift my arms over my head right now,” Gabe says. 

“I know, so let me help,” Jesse says. He crosses over to the bed and takes Gabe’s face in both of his hands to kiss him soundly. He pulls away after a moment, just enough to look Gabe in the eye. His thumb strokes over Gabe’s jaw. “Hey. We did it.”

“We did,” Gabe says. Jesse kisses him again, lingering for just a moment. 

“Let's get you cleaned up so we can get some rest,” Jesse says, finally pulling away. He looks around to see Winnie shuffling by the door. “Hey,” Jesse says gently. Winnie looks up at him. “You wanna help me get Gabe cleaned up?”

“Yeah,” Winnie says. Jesse points to a pitcher on the washstand. 

“Why don’t you run and fill that up for us?” Jesse says. Winnie nods and grabs the pitcher, looking glad to be doing  _ some _ thing. She slips back out of the room. Jesse turns back to Gabe, face going more serious. “How do you really feel?”

Gabe exhales. “Not good. I… I just need some rest,” Gabe says. Jesse scans Gabe’s face critically. 

“We can find a doc in the morning,” Jesse says. “After everything, I’m sure they’d be willing to help.”

“It’s alright,” Gabe says again. “I just need some rest.”

Jesse doesn’t look convinced. “You’d tell me if you weren’t really okay, wouldn’t you?”

Gabe looks down at his hands in his lap. Jesse tilts Gabe’s chin back up to look him in the eye, his fingers gripping his chin just on the edge of too tightly. 

“Gabe?”

“I’m not like you, Jesse,” Gabe says slowly. Jesse makes a small noise. 

“I know that.”

“I know you do - but really. I’m not like you. I don’t get another chance like you do, to reset my life and start all over again. Once I’m done, I’m… done.”

“Gabe, I don’t like the sound of that,” Jesse says, a scared note in his voice. Gabe reaches up and takes Jesse’s hand and clasps it between both of his own. 

“It’s been thirty years, Jesse. I got older, but you’re still the same.”

“I’m not. I’m different now,” Jesse protests. Gabe squeezes his hand. 

“I know. I know you are. But that doesn’t change the fact that one day I’m going to die, and you’re going to keep going.”

Gabe’s words hang in the air between them like a thick, suffocating fog. Gabe searches Jesse’s face, hoping he understands, wishing it wasn’t true. Jesse’s mouth is hanging open, pain and confusion in his eyes. 

“Gabe -” he starts to say, but Winnie comes back toting the pitcher and a bundle of fabric strips. 

“The nice inn lady gave me some bandages when I said Gabe was hurt,” Winnie says. She stops in the doorway, suddenly aware of the fact that something is going on between Gabe and Jesse. Jesse closes his mouth with a snap and looks over at Winnie. 

“Bring ‘em here,” Jesse says, forcing a fake lightness into his tone. “And get that washrag from the basin too.”

Winnie comes over to the bed, her steps halting and unsure. She looks at Gabe, who gives her a reassuring smile. 

“Did you say thank you to the lady?” Gabe asks as she sets the pitcher on the nightstand. Winnie nods. 

“‘Course. I got manners,” Winnie says. Gabe snorts. It pulls horribly. 

“Well, good,” Gabe says. Winnie moves away to grab the washrag from the basin like Jesse asked. Jesse faces Gabe again. 

“Arms up.”

Gabe lets Jesse pulls his shirt up and off, wincing as he does. Jesse hisses through his teeth once he gets a look at the bruising that mottles Gabe’s torso. Winnie stops short, holding the washrag between both her hands, her eyes filling with tears. 

“The bruises just mean it’s healing,” Gabe says quickly. He lowers his arms back to his sides. “It looks worse before it gets better.”

“But it’s gonna get better, right?” Winnie asks, her voice small. 

“Yeah, it’s going to get better,” Gabe says, avoiding Jesse’s eyes. 

“Let’s just - let’s get you cleaned up. And then we should sleep,” Jesse says. Gabe nods. 

“Do your worst,” Gabe says. 

“Don’t hurt him!” Winnie says. 

“I’m not gonna,” Jesse says, taking the washrag from her hands and pouring some water over it. 

“Because you love him?”

“Because I love him.”

“How about you come here and hold my hand?” Gabe says. Winnie looks at him. 

“Will that help?” she asks. Gabe nods. 

“It’ll make me feel lots better,” he says. He pats the bed next to him and Winnie scrambles up. She takes his hand carefully into both of her own. Her hands are tiny against Gabe’s. She turns Gabe’s hand over and traces the lines in his palm as Jesse starts cleaning off the worst of Gabe’s injuries. The scrapes and cuts are all scabbed over and full of dust and god knows what else, but Jesse is steady and gentle. Winnie watches him like a hawk but keeps her fingers wrapped around Gabe’s throughout the whole ordeal. 

Eventually, Jesse drops the soiled washrag into the basin and reaches for the bandages. He winds them around Gabe’s chest, just tight enough to give him a little extra support. It’s a welcome relief. 

“Better? Winnie asks. Gabe gives her a small, tired smile. 

“Better,” Gabe says. He looks up at Jesse. “Sleep now?”

“Yeah. Come wash your face, Winnie. Let Gabe lie down.”

“There’s plenty of room up here,” Gabe says, already scooting back on the mattress. 

“Oh, don’t worry. I ain’t letting you out of my sight,” Jesse says. “But I’m still not gonna track more dust into this bed.” 

Gabe chuckles. It still hurts, but slightly less with the added support of the bandages around his chest. He eases himself back onto the mattress and closes his eyes. He hurts so much. He’s so tired. 

He’s practically already asleep by the time Jesse climbs into bed on one side. Winnie climbs up on the other side. 

“Mm - mmph?”

“Shh, we’re going to sleep,” Jesse says. His lips brush up against Gabe’s temple. 

“Mmhm.”

“Good night Gabe,” Jesse says, his breath warm on Gabe’s neck. He doesn’t throw an arm over his chest like he usually does, but he spoons up close. On Gabe’s other side, he can feel Winnie lying stiffly next to him, with space between them. She fidgets in place. 

“Love you,” Gabe murmurs. 

“Love you too.”

※

Gabe wakes up before sunrise, the ache in his ribs keeping him from getting too deep of a sleep for most of the night. He turns his head to find Winnie tucked up against his side, her cheek resting against his ribs. It makes Gabe smile - she’s starting to come around. Slowly, carefully, he shifts Winnie off his chest and onto the sheets. She stirs but doesn’t wake. Gabe levers himself upright. On his other side, Jesse speaks without cracking an eye open. 

“Where’re you going?”

“Just need to take a leak,” Gabe says. 

“Need a hand?”

“I’m okay, Jesse.” 

Jesse cracks open an eye to look at him. “You sure?”

Gabe leans down to kiss him, even though it doesn’t feel great on his ribcage. 

“I’m sure.”

“Alright,” Jesse says. He turns his head to kiss Gabe properly. Gabe smiles against his mouth. He pushes himself back up, taking it slow. Jesse reaches up to steady him. “Take it easy.”

“I’ll be right back.”

“Mm.”

As soon as Gabe gets up from the bed, Winnie rolls over into the newly empty warm spot. After a moment, she tucks herself into Jesse’s side. Gabe smiles and shuffles out of their room. 

The inn is dark as Gabe eases himself down the stairs, taking his time. The bandages wrapped around his torso have helped stabilize him and for that Gabe is grateful. He’s even more grateful when his feet hit the bottom of the stairs. He makes his way out the back door to the little yard behind the inn, where Gabe thinks he remembers seeing an outhouse. The cool morning breeze feels good against his exposed skin. Gabe pauses, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath of the fresh air. 

After finding the outhouse, Gabe makes his way back inside. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up almost immediately. Something is off. He steps into the front room of the inn, where a lantern that wasn’t lit before is now casting a soft yellow glow. The innkeeper is frozen mid-gesture, bent over the lantern. There’s a tall, thin figure sitting just outside of the circle of light. 

“Gabriel,” a familiarly dry, accented voice says. “I hope you’ve been enjoying your sabbatical.”

Gabe clenches up. 

“Moira,” he says. The light catches on the white of her teeth as she smiles. 

“I see you’ve been causing trouble,” she says. Gabe shakes his head. 

“No, we’ve been helping - fixing things,” Gabe says. 

“And destroying set pieces,” Moira says. “The rock slide in the mountains is going to take a long time to clean up.”

Gabe doesn’t say anything, curling his hands into fists at his side. His heart is pounding in his throat. 

“You’re hurt,” Moira says. Gabe nods stiffly. “An unfortunate accident. Of course, the Delos facilities aren’t that far away. You could come back and get treatment…”

“No,” Gabe says forcefully. “I’m not going back.”

“I never thought you’d be the type to run from your problems, Gabriel,” Moira says. 

“I’m not running away.”

“No?”

“I’m finally doing something I want to do,” Gabe says. Moira doesn’t say anything, though Gabe can still see the glint of her teeth in the lamplight. 

“Is this how you want to spend the rest of your days, Gabriel?” Moira asks softly. Gabe presses his lips together. “How much longer do you have?”

“You looked at my files,” Gabe says through gritted teeth. 

“Of course I did,” Moira says. “You’re dying, Gabriel. And you chose to come here instead of seek treatment. That sounds like running away to me.”

Gabe looks away, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Moira doesn’t say anything, content to let the silence stretch on. The innkeeper still stands frozen over the lantern, his fingers nearly getting singed by the flickering flame. 

“I need to do this on my own terms,” Gabe says finally. Moira stand smoothly and takes a step into the light. 

“I’m willing to let you,” she says, her eyes looking Gabe over with a calculating coolness. “On one condition.”

“What is it?” Gabe asks. Moira smiles wider. 

※

The town treats them like heroes, which is more attention than any of them want. Olivia takes her share of the reward - a too generous sum that is, frankly, embarrassing - and sets back off to Sweetwater to retrieve her brother, to start a new life. Gabe watches her go with a pang in his chest; he wonders, faintly, how far she’ll get before her loop resets and sends her right back to the beginning. 

Gabe and Jesse use their reward to buy a couple of acres that butt up against a river. The land isn’t too far from a slightly bigger town than the one where they had returned the stolen children. This town has a school house, which Jesse insisted upon. There’s a small house already built on the land, overlooking the river. It has two rooms and a loft. They turn the loft into a room for Winnie and take the back back room for themselves. 

Gabe is still healing on the day the house officially becomes theirs. 

“I think I ought to carry you across the threshold,” Jesse says, standing a little ways away from the front of the house. Gabe snorts. 

“I’m no bride.”

Jesse looks up at him, eyes bright. “Not yet you ain’t.” 

Gabe ducks his head to hide his smile. Winnie runs ahead of them, bursting into the house to explore first. Jesse holds his hand out to Gabe. 

“Welcome home,” Jesse says, an incandescent smile spreading over his face. Gabe leans into his side as they walk into the house. 

It feels bigger on the inside than Gabe expected. There’s a wood burning stove and a big oak table pushed into one corner. The windows have real glass and look out onto the river. In the back room, they have an enormous bed, a dresser, and a trunk. 

“We’ll need curtains,” Jesse says, turning back to look at Gabe. 

“We can get curtains.”

“And a cat?” Jesse asks, hopeful. Gabe laughs. 

“And a cat.”

Jesse steps close to Gabe and wraps him up in his arms to kiss him soundly. Gabe closes his eyes, tilting his head into the kiss. Jesse pulls away first, leaning his forehead against Gabe’s. 

“We really did it, huh?” Jesse murmurs, his voice full of wonder. 

“We did,” Gabe says. 

“I can’t believe…” Jesse says. 

“We earned it,” Gabe says. Jesse breathes out. He kisses Gabe again, soft and brief. 

“We ought to check on Winnie.”

Winnie is already up in the loft. They put a bed of her own up there, along with a trunk filled with a couple sets of new clothes. 

“You okay up there?” Jesse calls up to her. Winnie pokes her head over the edge. 

“Is all this for me?” she asks. Jesse nods. 

“Welcome home,” he says. Winnie bites her lip. 

“I can stay here?” she asks. 

“‘Course you can,” Jesse says, his face softening. “You’re my daughter.”

Winnie scrambles down the ladder and practically throws herself into Jesse’s arms, hugging him tightly. Jesse looks surprised for a moment but then he wraps his arms around her tightly. He drops to his knees and holds Winnie by the shoulders. 

“I’m never going to let anything bad happen to you again, Winnie,” Jesse says. Winnie looks at him with rounded eyes. 

“Really? You promise?”

“I promise,” Jesse says. Winnie throws her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in Jesse’s neck. Jesse raises his eyes to look at Gabe over Winnie’s head. A tear leaks out of the corner of Jesse’s eye. Gabe’s chest is so full he could burst. 

※

That night, the first night in their new home, Gabe finds himself in bed with Jesse, kissing him slowly, lazily, enjoying every moment. Jesse holds himself up over Gabe, still overly cautious with the bruises that still mar Gabe’s torso. 

“I’m not made of glass, Jesse,” Gabe murmurs between kisses, trying to pull Jesse closer. Jesse resists. 

“You’re still all bruised up.”

“I’m healing,” Gabe says. Jesse shifts down, dropping a kiss to the edge of a bruise that’s yellowing over Gabe’s collar bone. 

“Not fast enough,” Jesse says. He traces the outline of the bruise with his lips. Gabe closes his eyes, letting a pleasant shiver roll down his spine. 

“Jesse,” Gabe breathes, shaking his head a little. Jesse freezes and pulls back. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asks. Gabe makes a small exasperated noise and tugs Jesse back in. 

“No,” Gabe says, leaning up to press his mouth to Jesse’s. “You never could.”

Jesse looks at him for a moment, his eyes piercing in the golden glow of the lantern at their bedside. He drops his mouth to Gabe’s chest again. Slowly, deliberately, Jesse traces the patterns of Gabe’s bruised skin with his mouth, placing reverent kisses over each one. Gabe lets his eyes close and his head fall back. 

“Jesse.”

“Can I keep going?”

“Don’t stop. Please.”

Gabe feels Jesse smile against his stomach. He wiggles further down, tugging Gabe’s johns off and then pushing his legs apart. He licks a long, wet stripe over Gabe’s thickening cock before he ducks his head lower, nuzzling past his balls to get at his hole. Gabe sucks in a breath as Jesse’s tongue laps up against his ass. Jesse holds his legs open as he eats Gabe out, sloppy, enthusiastic noises falling from Jesse’s lips and going straight up Gabe’s spine. Gabe bats at Jesse’s head a little. 

“Jesse - you have to - you’re gonna wake up Winnie -” Gabe gasps, trying to keep his own voice down. Jesse raises his head, lips puffy and pink. 

“You gotta keep it down, too, Gabe,” Jesse says. He drops a kiss on the inside of Gabe’s thigh. “I know I ain’t makin’ it easy for you…”

Jesse gives Gabe a devilish grin that makes Gabe huff out a little laugh. It quickly turns into another moan that Gabe has to stifle with his fist pressed against his mouth as Jesse works his tongue over Gabe’s hole. Jesse presses his face in closer, his tongue fucking into Gabe deeper. 

“Jesse, Jesse,” Gabe pants. His hand finds Jesse’s hair and he tangled his fingers in the long strands, tugging gently. The heat is pooling in Gabe’s belly, his cock aching against his hip. “Jesse, please -”

Jesse pulls back just enough to speak. His breath is warm against Gabe’s ass, and one finger circles Gabe’s hole, teasing. 

“What d’you need?” Jesse asks, voice low and rough. “What d’you want?”

“You - just you, Jesse. Please - wanna feel you -”

“I’m right here, Gabe, I ain’t going anywhere.”

Gabe picks up his head to look at Jesse. “Fuck me?”

“Gabe -”

“You’re not going to hurt me. Jesse,  _ please _ ,” Gabe says, letting the needy whine come into his voice. It has almost exactly the desired effect. Jesse groans and presses his face into Gabe’s thigh. 

“How am I supposed to say no to that?”

“Hopefully you don’t,” Gabe says. He shifts again. “Please, Jesse?”

“Twist my arm, why don’t you?” Jesse says. Gabe laughs. He scrambles up to find the slick they brought with them to the new house, shedding his own johns as he goes. He comes back to the bed and settles on his knees between Gabe’s legs. “You stop me if it hurts, alright? Even a little bit.”

Gabe pulls one knee up and out of the way, spreading his legs wider for Jesse. “You won’t. Come on, Jesse. Wanna feel you.”

Jesse takes his cock into his hand, slicking up the length of him. Gabe watches him in the soft glow of the lantern light; he looks so strong and handsome, young, healthy. His muscles ripple under his skin as he strokes himself from root to tip, his thumb rubbing over his slit. Jesse pours more slick into his hand and reaches down between Gabe’s legs. He rubs his fingers over Gabe’s hole, fingers pressing firmly against him. Gabe catches his own bottom lip with his teeth. He tilts his hips up into Jesse’s touch. 

“Easy, darling,” Jesse says. “I’m gonna take good care of you.”

Gabe lets his body sink back against the mattress. Jesse smiles. 

“There you go,” Jesse purrs. He eases a finger into Gabe, and then another. Gabe’s mouth falls open. Jesse holds Gabe’s gaze, his own lips slightly parted as he shifts forward on his knees, adjusting the angle of his hand. He takes it slow, fingering Gabe open until he’s slick and loose and squirming. 

Finally, finally, Jesse drags his fingers out of Gabe’s ass and takes own cock into his palm again. Gabe hitches up his leg a little further. His breathing is coming fast in anticipation, making his ribs ache. But it feels good - he needs to feel Jesse’s hands on him, needs to feel Jesse around him, inside him, enveloping him completely. He reaches up and drapes his arms around Jesse’s shoulders, trying to bring him in closer. 

“Jesse, please.”

“Hold your horses, darling,” Jesse says. He tips forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to Gabe’s lips, the tip of his cock bumping up against the underside of Gabe’s balls, leaving a slick trail in its wake. Gabe barely resists tilting his hips up to chase his cock. He knows Jesse will take care of him. 

And he does. Jesse drags the head of his cock over Gabe’s ass, the tip catching on the rim of his hole before Jesse pushes in. Gabe’s loose enough, wet enough that there’s hardly any resistance - just the delicious stretch of Jesse’s thick cock splitting Gabe open. Gabe lets his head fall back again, exposing the column of his throat to Jesse, who immediately begins kissing up his neck as he sinks into Gabe. 

Jesse pauses when his hips are flush with Gabe’s ass, grinding against him with a little circular motion. Gabe shudders and clenches around Jesse. The hint of pain that lingers in Gabe’s ribs only puts a finer edge on the pleasurable stretch of Jesse’s cock inside him. He feels so full he can barely breathe. Jesse kisses over his jaw. 

“You tell me when I can move, Gabe,” Jesse says, his lips at the corner of Gabe’s mouth. Gabe digs his fingers into Jesse’s back. 

“Do it,” Gabe pants. Jesse pulls back just a little and thrusts back in. He’s holding back, Gabe can tell - he knows how rough Jesse can be,  _ loves _ how rough Jesse can be - but this time is different. It’s no less intense; Jesse is watching Gabe’s face with rapt attention, gauging Gabe’s reaction with every movement. He fucks into Gabe with purpose, though, making Gabe feel every inch of his cock, driving into Gabe’s prostate and then barely skating over it. He’s pulling Gabe to the edge and making him float there, making him dizzy with pleasure. Gabe is gasping for breath, even though his tender ribs are making his breath come in shorter pants. He clings to Jesse, his nails dragging red marks into Jesse’s back. If Jesse minds, he doesn’t say anything. He’s watching Gabe with bright eyes, his sweat-damp hair falling into his face as he holds himself up over Gabe, still too worried about hurting him. Gabe tries to drag him further down again. “Jesse -”

“You like this, Gabe?” Jesse asks, his voice low, rumbling through both of their chests. Gabe nods jerkily. 

“Yes - yes, Jesse, it’s good - you’re so good - don’t stop -”

“I ain’t gonna,” Jesse says. He drops a kiss to the corner of Gabe’s mouth. “You’re so hot inside, Gabe. You feel so good on my cock.”

Gabe shudders. He arches up against Jesse - he can’t help it. It pulls something in his ribs and the gasp that escapes his mouth is less than pleasurable. Jesse freezes. Gabe lets out a little whine. He scrabbles at Jesse’s back. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop -”

“Gabe -”

“No, Jesse, please, I’m okay - don’t stop,  _ please _ \- !”

But Jesse pulls away, slipping out from under Gabe’s hands before Gabe can redouble his grip. Gabe’s protest dies on his lips, though, when Jesse rolls Gabe onto his side and spoons up behind him. His slicked cock slides between Gabe’s cheeks, his arms circling Gabe’s chest to pull his back against his own chest.

“How’s this?” Jesse asks, breath hot and damp around Gabe’s ear. “Better?”

Jesse thrusts back into Gabe as he asks the question. Gabe lets out a moan. 

“Yes - god, yes. More, Jesse, more.”

Jesse builds up the rhythm again, taking his time, finding the right angle until Gabe’s sporadic gasps turn into an almost continuous moan. One hand find Gabe’s erection, and Gabe nearly loses it right there. He shudders against Jesse, canting his hips back into Jesse’s, taking him as deep as he can while Jesse jerks him off, his head swimming with the heady mix of breathlessness and pleasure. Jesse’s teeth graze the curve of his neck. 

“Can’t believe I get to have you like this,” Jesse murmurs into Gabe’s ear, his own voice strained as his orgasm gets closer. “In our own home, in our own bed. Love you Gabe, love you so much - fuck, you feel good -”

Gabe’s cock twitches in Jesse’s palm and spurts over his fist. Jesse moans appreciatively, stroking Gabe through it and grinding against his ass. He peppers kisses over Gabe’s neck and whispers endless words of praise as Gabe goes practically boneless in his arms. Jesse doesn’t stop. He keeps rolling his hips, chasing his own orgasm now, his sticky hand pressed against Gabe’s belly, keeping him close. Jesse loses some of his carefulness, but Gabe loves it - he keeps pushing back into Jesse’s hips to take him as deep as he can. 

When Jesse comes, he thrusts all the way in and holds there. Gabe can feel him twitch as Jesse fills him with come. He closes his eyes, reveling in the sensation. 

Jesse stays there, inside of Gabe, the two of them breathing hard to catch their breaths. Jesse has his face pressed against the back of Gabe’s neck. His breaths tickle the hair there. Gabe smiles, letting himself drift off to sleep. 

Home. 

Gabe wakes the next morning, still tangled up in Jesse’s arms, his head pillowed against Jesse’s chest. Gabe turns his face into Jesse’s skin and breathes in his familiar scent. Jesse shifts underneath him. 

“Could get used to waking up like this,” Jesse says, his voice thick with sleep. Gabe tips his head back to smile up at Jesse. 

“We’ll see if you’re still saying that after a couple more days,” Gabe says. Jesse makes a face. He hauls Gabe up so he can kiss him. 

“I mean it,” Jesse says. He kisses Gabe again. A warm feeling spreads through his chest, right down to his fingers and toes. 

“Well, the first day of the rest of our lives then,” Gabe says. But Jesse leans away so that he can look at Gabe. His brow furrows as he searches Gabe’s face. 

“You had said…” Jesse starts to say. Gabe raises his eyebrows expectantly. Jesse swallows and looks back down at Gabe’s bruised chest. He traces a finger around the edge of a bruise. “What you said about dying - it’s just been stuck with me.”

Gabe face falls. “Oh, Jesse.”

“I can’t - I can’t imagine losing you, Gabe, not after everything we’ve done, everything we’ve been through. I can’t lose you,” Jesse says, his voice wavering. Gabe draws him in, shifting back on the bed. Jesse lets him, even going so far as to put some weight on Gabe’s chest; he shifts down and leans his cheek against Gabe’s pec, his ear right over Gabe’s heart. 

“You can’t think like that, Jesse,” Gabe says softly, his fingers stroking down Jesse’s back. 

“But -”

“I know. It’s not fair. But we have time,” Gabe says. He swallows around the lump that’s suddenly formed in his throat. “We have plenty of time. And we’re going to make the most of every last moment.”

Jesse doesn’t say anything for a long time. Gabe slips his hand under his chin and gently tilts his head up to look at him. 

“I love you, Jesse,” Gabe says. “I love you so much.”

Jesse’s face twists. He leans up to kiss Gabe again, an edge of desperation in the way his teeth click against Gabe’s. 

“I love you too,” Jesse murmurs against Gabe’s mouth, their lips still touching. “It’s why I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’ll always have me, Jesse.”

Gabe kisses Jesse again, then again, and again, pulling Jesse close until he feels the tension go out of his shoulders. They lie tangled up in each other’s arms as more sunlight pours into their bedroom and they can start to hear Winnie wake up. 

“We should get up,” Jesse says, though he makes no move to do so. Gabe flattens his palm against Jesse’s back. 

“First day of the rest of our lives, right?” Gabe says. Jesse breathes out and sits up. He looks down at Gabe, his brow still slightly pinched, but maybe less worried than before. He leans down and brushes his lips over Gabe’s. 

“Let's make the most of it.”

※

Gabe’s bruises fade. His ribs heal. His hair grows out. They begin to build their lives together. They send Winnie to school. They use their reputation as the Blackwatch gang to work alongside the marshals. It’s good work when they can get it, but Gabe doesn’t mind the long stretches between jobs. His life has a certain calmness that he never expected to have. 

Gabe is content. 

※

“You’re sure they’re here?” the man in grey asks. Sombra closes her eyes briefly. It would’ve been better if the man had just killed her outright. 

“Yes.”

The man looks out at the river, at the little house tucked into the copse of oak trees. For the first time in a long time, the man in grey smiles.


	16. Deliverance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe confronts the man in grey and Jesse fights for his freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the ~thrilling conclusion~ of this Westworld McReyes AU. I hope you enjoy the final installment! 
> 
> You kind find me on [tumblr](wictorwictor.tumblr.com) and [twitter](twitter.com/smarshtastic)! Come tell me what you think ♥

Gabe leaves the general store with a sack of dried beans over his shoulder. The air is cool, the summer having faded into fall, the last of the green fading from the hills and giving way to the golden colors of the harvest season. Gabe nods to the other townspeople as he walks to where he had tethered his horse. He stows the sack in one of the saddle bags and gives his horse’s neck a fond pat as he untethers her. He swings up into the saddle and clicks his tongue, guiding his horse down the road that leads out of town. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Gabe spots a familiar figure standing on the porch of the town’s more raucous saloon. He does a double take and twists in his saddle to get a better look, but when Gabe turns toward the porch, the figure has disappeared. Gabe glances up and down the road. He can’t see anyone but townspeople - the figure Gabe thought he had seen is nowhere to be seen. 

Unsettled, Gabe flicks the reins and urges his horse into a faster trot. He looks over his shoulder again and again throughout his ride back home, but the figure never re-materializes. 

Gabe lets the horse out to graze once he’s back home. He slings the saddle over his shoulder and brings the sack of beans inside. 

“Jesse?” Gabe calls out as he wipes his boots off just inside the doorway. He hangs up the saddle and moves to the pantry to put the beans away. When he doesn’t get a response immediately, Gabe’s heart starts pounding in his chest. “Jesse? Are you home?” 

Still: no response. Gabe moves into their bedroom, but Jesse isn’t there either. A shrill cry cuts through the air. Gabe’s heart jumps into his throat. 

Gabe all but runs out of the house, skirting around to the back. Laundry flutters in the breeze from where they hang from the line. There’s another shrill cry and Winnie bursts through a break in the linens. She stops short when she sees Gabe. 

“Papa!” she cries, running into his arms. Gabe scoops her up and cradles her to his chest. She presses her face into his shoulder, her little body shaking. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Gabe asks, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice. 

Jesse steps out from around the laundry, grinning. Gabe blinks. 

“Found you,” Jesse says. Winnie picks up her head. It takes Gabe another moment to realize she’s giggling - shaking from laughter - 

“Papa, save me from daddy!” she squeals. Gabe gives her a shaky smile. 

“Was your daddy doing  _ this _ ?” Gabe asks, tickling her side. Winnie lets out that shrill cry again and wiggles out of Gabe’s grip. 

“Papa!” she says. “You’re supposed to protect me!”

Jesse grins at her. He comes over to Gabe and slips an arm around his waist. 

“Papa’s on my side,” Jesse says. He turns his head and presses a kiss against Gabe’s temple, his nose nuzzling into Gabe’s curls. “Besides, you were supposed to be helping with the laundry.”

“Laundry’s boring,” Winnie says, making a face. 

“How else are you going to get clean clothes, huh?”

“I dunno. Magic?” 

Jesse snorts. “Yeah. Magic. How about you get some wood for the stove? We can get started on dinner if papa brought home some beans.”

“I did,” Gabe nods. Winnie brightens. 

“Bacon beans?” she asks. 

“You got it,” Jesse says. Winnie claps her hands together. “Is that your favorite or something?”

“You know it is!”

“Well hurry up and get that wood, then.”

Winnie scampers off towards the woodpile. Once she’s out of sight, Jesse turns to Gabe, moving his hands up to grasp Gabe’s shoulders. 

“You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Jesse says. Gabe shakes his head a little, as if to clear it. 

“No - yeah. I’m fine,” Gabe says. Jesse frowns slightly, unconvinced. Gabe lets his breath out. “I thought I saw someone in town, is all.”

“What kind of someone?”

“It was probably nothing,” Gabe says. “Just my eyes playing tricks on me.”

Jesse’s eyes scan Gabe’s face, the little pinch appearing between his eyebrows as he studies Gabe’s expression. Finally, Jesse leans in and kisses Gabe lightly. 

“If you’re sure,” Jesse says. Gabe kisses him back. 

“I’m fine,” Gabe says, sounding more confident than he feels. He can’t quite shake that unsettled feeling, though it must be true that he didn’t see who he thought he saw. “Let’s get dinner started.”

The three of them fall into their usual evening rituals: making dinner together and then eating at the solid oak table; Gabe washing the dishes while Jesse helps Winnie wash up and brush her long hair. The routine should soothe him, but Gabe finds his mind drifting elsewhere, the anxiety lurking just under the surface. He tries to push it back down as he climbs up into the loft. Winnie and Jesse are sitting up in bed, waiting for Gabe to join them. He lies down on Winnie’s other side while Jesse opens the book in his lap to read to her. Tonight, it’s a selection from  _ Alice in Wonderland _ .

“If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense,” Jesse reads, his voice low and soothing. “Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?” 

Soon enough, Winnie’s eyes are drooping, her head lolling against Jesse’s shoulder. Jesse closes the book and sets it on her nightstand, even though Winnie makes a little noise of protest. Jesse shifts her back and Gabe pulls the blankets up to tuck her in. 

“‘M not sleepy,” Winnie mumbles, practically asleep already. Jesse smiles. He presses a kiss to her forehead. 

“Sweet dreams, Winnie,” Jesse says. “Love you.”

“Love you too, daddy,” she says, her little hand tugging the blanket further up under her chin. Gabe bends to kiss her forehead too. “Love you too, papa.”

“Love you, Winnie.”

Jesse snuffs out the lamp and lets Gabe descend back into the front room ahead of him. Gabe listens to Jesse come down the ladder as he moves to the door. He checks the deadbolt, just to be sure, and tests the door by pulling on the handle. 

“Gabe?” Jesse asks, close behind him. Gabe jumps. Jesse’s hand touches his shoulder - Gabe’s sure he can feel the tension in his body. 

“Just making sure I remembered to lock the door,” Gabe says. Jesse tugs on his shoulder so that Gabe turns to face him. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Gabe forces himself to smile, but it comes off more like a grimace. “Yeah - I’m… yeah. I’m fine. Just need a good night’s sleep, I guess.”

“You need me to keep Peacekeeper with us tonight?” Jesse asks. His face is serious - he’s not making fun of Gabe. Gabe lets his breath out and rubs a hand over his face, some of the tension melting away. 

“No. No, it’s alright. We’re safe here.” 

“We are,” Jesse says. He kisses his cheek. “Come to bed?”

“Right behind you.”

Jesse moves into their bedroom while Gabe goes to turn down the lamp in the front room. He starts back to their bedroom, but pauses, then doubles back and checks the front door one last time. When the deadbolt doesn’t budge, Gabe finally goes to join Jesse. 

Jesse’s already in bed, the blankets pooled in his lap. He pats the mattress next to him. 

“Come here, I’ll pet your hair,” Jesse says. Gabe scrunches his face up, but he can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips. He strips out of his dusty day clothes and slides into the bed next to Jesse. Jesse pulls him in, sliding down so they can both lie back, Gabe’s head pillowed against Jesse’s chest. His hand slides up into the curls at the back of Gabe’s neck and he pets him slowly, fingers gently scraping against Gabe’s scalp. Gabe exhales, more tension melting away. He closes his eyes. 

“You’d tell me if there was really something to worry about, right Gabe?” Jesse asks softly, just as Gabe is starting to feel like he could fall asleep. Gabe reopens his eyes and picks up his head. Jesse tries to pull him back down to his chest. “Sorry - sorry. Just go to sleep.”

“I’m sure it was nothing,” Gabe says, even though the experience is still needling at the back of his mind. 

“If you’re sure.”

Gabe shimmies up so he can give Jesse a reassuring kiss - reassuring for himself just as much as it is meant to be for Jesse.

“Let’s just get some sleep?” Gabe asks. Jesse nods a little. He leans in to kiss Gabe again. 

“Alright.”

Jesse reaches to turn down the lantern, throwing their room into darkness. The moon peeks between their curtains, casting their sheets in a silvery blue light. Gabe draws the blankets up to his chin but then Jesse pulls him in again. He presses a kiss to Gabe’s temple, his nose buried in Gabe’s hair.    
“Love you,” Jesse murmurs. Gabe wraps his arms around Jesse and tangles their legs together too. He needs to be close, needs to protect Jesse and feel protected by Jesse. He closes his eyes, allowing the warmth of Jesse’s skin to soothe him. 

“Love you too.”

They lie in the darkness for a long time, Jesse’s hand still moving through Gabe’s hair. He can almost let it soothe him, but his mind is still working in overtime. 

“Jesse?” Gabe finally asks. 

“Mm?”

Gabe tilts his head back, trying to look at Jesse’s face in to weak moonlight. He can just make out the outline of his jaw, his nose, his cheeks. His eyes are closed, his eyelashes brushing the top of his cheekbones. 

“What if we went away from here?” Gabe asks. Jesse cracks open an eye to look down at him. 

“Away from here?”

“California, maybe, where I’m from. Remember how we used to talk about it?” Gabe asks. Jesse shifts on the bed to get a good look at Gabe. “There’s so much to see out there, Jesse. A whole world to explore.”

“But we’re happy here,” Jesse says, though the statement sounds uncertain, worried. 

“I’m happy with you,” Gabe says quickly. He sits up in bed, letting the blankets fall away and pool in his lap. He takes Jesse’s hands in both of his. “I’m so happy with you, Jesse. I would be happy anywhere, so long as I had you next to me. But I can’t help but think - I just think the longer we stay here, the more likely it is that someone’s going to come after us.”

“It’s been months, Gabe,” Jesse says softly. He rubs his thumb over the back of Gabe’s hand. “If they were gonna come after us, they would’ve done it ages ago.”

Gabe looks down at their hands, half-hidden in shadow. Jesse slips one hand out of Gabe’s grip and cups his cheek. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing to worry about?” Jesse asks. Gabe lets his breath out. 

“I don’t know,” Gabe says finally. “I can’t shake the feeling... “

“You sure you don’t want me to get Peacekeeper in here?”

Gabe lets out a little laugh. Some of the tension melts out of his shoulders. He eases himself back down onto Jesse’s chest, nuzzling in close. 

“No, I’m alright.”

Jesse wraps him back up in his arms, reaching down to pull the blankets back up over them. He rubs down Gabe’s back, repeating the soothing movements from before. 

“I’d follow you to the ends of the earth, Gabe,” Jesse says quietly into the darkness. “But I can’t imagine anywhere better than right here.”

Gabe nods against Jesse’s chest. “Our own little slice of heaven, huh?”

※

Gabe wakes the next day feeling marginally better. In the light of a new day, the familiar figure he thought he had seen in town feels hazy and uncertain - certainly less threatening than Gabe had felt the day before. He pushes the anxiety of the day before further down. It’s easier, with the golden morning light pouring through their windows while they eat breakfast. Gabe smiles at Winnie across the table as she chatters away about her dream.

Jesse walks Winnie to school after breakfast, intending to run some errands in town while he’s there. Gabe kisses them both goodbye and heads out back to brush the horses and bring the laundry in. It’s a beautiful, clear day - a little warmer than the day before, summer’s last hurrah before fall really sets in. Gabe takes his time brushing the horses, letting the sun warm his skin. 

The morning passes uneventfully. Gabe brings in the laundry and sorts out what needs to be mended, lying out the clothes on the table before he fetches their sewing kit. The repetitive, almost tedious motion of the needle through fabric steadies Gabe’s wandering mind, forcing him to focus on the task at hand. Eventually, he finds himself humming tunelessly. 

Jesse comes back around noon to Gabe in the kitchen making a fresh pot of coffee. He slips up behind him, wrapping his arms around Gabe’s waist and planting a kiss to the knob at the back of his neck. Gabe closes his eyes. 

“Hey,” he says. Jesse rests his chin on Gabe’s shoulder. 

“Feeling better today?” Jesse asks. 

“Yeah,” Gabe says. “Lots better.”

Jesse kisses the back of Gabe’s neck again. Gabe turns in Jesse’s arms so that he can kiss him properly, arms looped around Jesse’s shoulders. He feels Jesse smile against his mouth. 

“We got some time before I gotta go pick up Winnie from school,” Jesse says, hands sliding down to hold Gabe’s hips. Gabe tries not to smile, playing it coy. 

“But there’s so much mending to do,” Gabe says. “How will it ever get done?”

Jesse ducks forward to kiss up Gabe’s neck. Gabe tilts his head into the touch, one hand cupping the back of Jesse’s head. His mouth is warm and wet against Gabe’s neck, just under his ear. It makes Gabe shiver. 

“This isn’t mending,” Gabe says, a protest without any bite behind it. Jesse chuckles. 

“Mending can wait,” Jesse says. “C’mon.”

Jesse tugs Gabe into their bedroom. Gabe resists nominally, playfully, but goes down easily when Jesse pushes him down onto the bed. Jesse tugs down Gabe’s pants and kicks off his own. He leaves his shirt on as he scrambles back up to straddle Gabe’s hips. Gabe runs his hands up Jesse’s bare thighs, smiling up at him. 

“This isn’t mending either,” Gabe says. Jesse snorts. He leans down over him and kisses Gabe deeply. Gabe runs his hands down Jesse’s clothed back, pushing up his shirt to grasp his bare ass. Jesse pushes back into his hands. Gabe rubs a finger between his cheeks, dipping a finger inside him. Jesse wiggles, trying to take his finger in deeper. 

“Mm - yeah, that’s the ticket, Gabe,” Jesse says between kisses. “God, I love your hands. Yeah, fuck. Right there, Gabe.”

Jesse fumbles with Gabe’s shirt, pulling the buttons open, not caring that one or two come loose in his haste. Gabe nips at Jesse’s mouth. 

“That’s more mending you’re giving me,” Gabe says. Jesse takes Gabe’s cock in his hand, sitting up so he can get the tip of him between his cheeks. 

“I’ll help,” Jesse says, sinking down on Gabe’s cock with one smooth motion. Gabe sucks in his breath. 

“You’re terrible at sewing,” Gabe says. Jesse lets out a little breathless laugh. He pitches forward to kiss Gabe again. 

“Will you quit it with the sewing and fuck me?” Jesse asks. Gabe laughs into Jesse’s mouth. He grasps Jesse’s hips in both hands and thrusts up. Jesse’s own laugh turns into a gasp. He braces himself against Gabe’s chest with both hands, giving himself enough leverage to ride Gabe’s dick. Gabe matches his pace, keeping his eyes on Jesse’s face as they fuck. Jesse smiles breathlessly down at him, his eyes bright, the color rising high on his cheeks. His own erection peeks out from under the hem of his shirt. A bead of precome is already gathering on the tip of his cock. “Yeah - like that, darling. Just like that - yeah, you feel so fucking good.”

Gabe isn’t vocal like Jesse; he’s never able to find the right words when he’s speaking normally, and he sure as hell isn’t able to find the right words when Jesse has enveloped him so completely. So instead he just breathes heavily, moans softly, his eyes taking in the sight of Jesse as he rides him: the muscles of his legs rippling under his skin, the dusting of chest hair that peeks through his half-open shirt, the glistening bead of precome that dampens the hem of his shirt. 

Jesse is beautiful and Gabe is overwhelmed by the love he feels for him. 

Gabe reaches up and drags Jesse down so their foreheads press together. Jesse shudders. 

“Gabe,” Jesse says, his voice going quieter and more urgent. His thighs shake on either side of Gabe’s hips, his rhythm becoming more erratic. Gabe can feel the heat pooling in his own stomach. He cups Jesse’s cheek. 

“I got you,” Gabe manages to say. “‘M right here.”

“Gabe - I’m close, please -” Jesse pants. He slams down on Gabe’s cock and grinds against him, hips jerking desperately against him. Gabe moves his hands back down to grip Jesse’s hips, to keep him flush, to drive his cock as deep as he can get. Jesse tosses his head back, moaning throatily. It sends Gabe tumbling over the edge, his cock spilling deep inside of Jesse. In that same moment, Jesse spurts over Gabe’s chest. 

They collapse in a sticky, sweaty pile of limbs, breathing heavily. Gabe closes his eyes and breathes in Jesse’s familiar, musky scent. He turns his head to bury his nose in the hair at Jesse’s temple. 

“Gonna have to do laundry again,” Gabe murmurs. He feels Jesse blink, then Jesse whaps him lightly. 

“You’re impossible.”

“You love me,” Gabe says. Jesse makes a face, but he’s smiling. He kisses Gabe anyway. 

“I do. I love you.”

Eventually, Gabe and Jesse drag themselves out of bed to clean up and get dressed. Jesse heads back to town to walk Winnie home from school. Gabe walks to the river to fill up a watering can so he can tend to the garden. 

The afternoon got hotter. The sun beats down from a cloudless sky, too hot on Gabe’s shoulders. He rolls up his sleeves and moves between the rows of vegetables, pulling weeds and drizzling extra water over some of the drier spots. When the watering can is empty, Gabe straightens and turns back to the river. 

A familiar figure stands on the path that leads to their front door. Gabe stops short, the watering can slipping out of his fingers. The water splashed over his boots. He stands there, frozen, even as the figure lifts a hand in greeting. A jumble of thoughts crowd Gabe’s mind - he should run, he should get his gun, he should get out of here, he needs to warn Jesse - 

“Gabe, you’re a hard man to find,” Jack says, advancing down the path towards Gabe, his grey coat billowing out behind him. 

※

Angela drops her tablet on Dr. O’Deorain’s desk. Dr. O’Deorain looks up slowly to find Angela looking stormy. It’s an expression that sits oddly on her usually pleasant, almost  _ angelic _ face - Dr. O’Deorain finds herself studying the fine muscles that contort Angela’s countenance. She wonders if she’d be able to replicate it in a host. 

“When were you going to tell me about this?” Angela demands. Dr. O’Deorain raises an eyebrow. 

“Tell you about what, Angela?” 

“We’ve let Gabriel run around the park long enough,” she says. “But sending  _ Jack _ after him? Who authorized that?”

Dr. O’Deorain blinks. She looks down at the tablet Angela had dropped in front of her: the screen shows security footage from Sweetwater, and Jack Morrison riding atop a while horse, his face grim. 

“Interesting.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“How do you know that’s what he’s doing?”

“What else would he be doing?” Angela shoots back. Dr. O’Deorain looks back up at her. 

“A vacation, perhaps,” Dr. O’Deorain says. Angela splutters. 

“Moira,” Angela says. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but I can’t sit here quietly any longer. You’re playing with their lives.”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Dr. O’Deorain says. 

“Aren’t you? Isn’t this what this whole experiment is about?” Angela says, her voice going lower, almost threatening. She leans forward, both hands on Dr. O’Deorain’s desk. “This entire park was created to service your sick fantasies - pushing what it means to be human, blurring the lines between what is real and what isn’t.”

Dr. O’Deorain leans back in her seat, steepling her fingers together.

“How long have you worked here, Angela?”

“That’s not the point.”

“How long?” Dr. O’Deorain asks again. Angela shakes her head. 

“I stopped counting after ten years.”

“In all that time, you never questioned what we were doing here. Why now?” Dr. O’Deorain says. “You certainly haven’t had any objections, not while we’ve been lining your pockets.”

“These are people’s  _ lives _ , Moira,” Angela says, her voice going high, almost pained. “Nobody should stay in that park for as long as Gabriel has, and certainly not in his condition.”

“You’ve read his file,” Dr. O’Deorain says. 

“He’s been gone for months. You’ve built narratives around him and his life - you’ve enabled him, you’ve let him sink further and further away from reality. To what end? It’s cruel, Moira. When this is over -”

“It is a mercy,” Dr. O’Deorain interrupts. “Gabriel Reyes is dying and I’m giving him exactly what he wants. He’s doing this on his own terms.”

“You’re withholding treatment.”

“I’m doing no such thing.”

“Does Jack know?” Angela asks. “Is he part of this experiment too?”

“I didn’t send Jack into the park,” Dr. O’Deorain says. “If that’s what you’re implying.”

“Well now he’s on a collision course,” Angela says. She pushes off of Dr. O’Deorain’s desk and paces away, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “We have to get to Gabriel before he does.”

Dr. O’Deorain watches her pace back and forth. “Why?”

“You know very well that Jack isn’t equipped to handle such a delicate situation,” Angela snaps. “Gabriel is stubborn. He and Jack haven’t been listening to each other for years.”

“I’m not sure why you’re so convinced this is liable to end in disaster,” Dr. O’Deorain says. Angela stops in her tracks and spins back to face her. 

“There are guests in the park,” Angela says, practically hissing the words. “You’re right - I enjoy having a job and the luxuries it affords me. How will it look if two of Delos’s employees have a showdown in the middle of it all, for all to see?”

Dr. O’Deorain smiles at Angela. 

“I’m sure the guests will just think it’s part of the story.”

※

Gabe’s fingers flex at his side. He wishes he had a weapon. 

“How did you find me, Jack?” Gabe asks. Jack takes a few steps down the path towards Gabe, his grey coat swinging out behind him. 

“It wasn’t easy,” Jack says. “You’re a hard man to find.”

“I didn’t want to be found.”

“Did you stop to think what you were doing by abandoning everyone, Gabe?” Jack asks. “Did you even realize how selfish you were being?”

Gabe scoffs. “I was right here the whole time.”

“You could’ve  _ ruined _ us,” Jack says. 

“But I didn’t,” Gabe says. “I needed time, Jack. Time to myself, time for myself. I couldn’t do that at Delos.”

“Did you even try?” Jack asks, stopping short a few feet in front of him. Gabe spreads his hands. 

“Would you have listened if I had asked?”

“Of course I would have!” Jack practically shouts. Gabe stares at him, stares at what’s become of the man with whom he’d practically grown up. They had been young, once. Bright-eyed and full of ideals. They wanted to change the world. After they saved it, together, they set out to do just that - change the world, together. 

But something went wrong along the way, or maybe they weren’t ever as similar as they thought they were - maybe it was circumstance that made them close, forging a bond in the fire of desperation and conflict, and when the life-threatening conflict faded from their everyday lives, there wasn’t enough left there to keep that bond as strong as it was. They were too different; their perspectives diverging, coming close but never meeting. The chasm between them widened as Jack pushed further ahead, always seeking more - more money, more power, more recognition - while Gabe was happy to hang back, take his time, effectuate change more quietly. 

It worked for them. For many, many years. 

Until Gabe learned that his days were numbered, that he was dying. And then, finally, it hit him: he was tired of living his life by someone else’s rules. 

“I’m not going back with you, Jack,” Gabe says finally, breaking the silence. Jack blinks at him, dumbfounded. 

“So, what, you’re just going to sit here and play house?”

“I’m dying, Jack,” Gabe says forcefully. 

“And you’re just going to roll over and die?” Jack asks. “Why aren’t you fighting this thing?”

“I’m tired of fighting. I’ve spent my whole life fighting. I’m happy here,” Gabe says. He spreads his hands. 

“You’ve completely lost your mind,” Jack says. Gabe makes a frustrated noise. 

“Can’t you leave this well enough alone?” Gabe asks. “Why do you care now?”

“Why don’t we talk about this back at Delos?”

“Fuck you, I’m not going back with you,” Gabe practically spits. Jack’s face goes stormy. He advances on Gabe. 

“I knew it was a fucking mistake bringing you here,” Jack says. “I was trying to do you a favor and this is how -”

“Papa?” 

Winnie’s voice cuts through the air. Gabe closes his eyes briefly as his stomach flips over. He looks past Jack to see Winnie running far ahead of Jesse, her long braid floating in the air behind her. 

Jack turns toward her voice. Gabe lurches forward. 

“Don’t -”

“Freeze all motor functions,” Jack bellows. Winnie stops in her tracks, teetering on her toes. 

“Don’t!” Gabe says again. He reaches out and grabs Jack’s arm, yanking him back. Jack wrenches himself out of Gabe’s grip. 

“Is she yours?” Jack sneers. Gabe grits his teeth but doesn’t say anything. Jack lets out a disbelieving little laugh. It makes something cold run down Gabe’s spine. “Jesus fucking Christ, Gabe.  _ None of this is real _ , how many times do I have to tell you?”

Jack unholsters his gun. Gabe sees, out of the corner of his eye, Jesse closing in on them. 

“Jack,” Gabe says warningly. 

Jack ignores him, pushing Gabe aside and leveling his gun at Winnie. 

“I don’t know how else I’m supposed to convince you,” Jack says. 

“If you fucking touch her -”

Jack pulls the trigger. Gabe doesn’t think twice. He jumps in front of Jack’s gun and takes the full force of the shot to the chest. It sends him stumbling backwards. A puff of dust rises up around him as he hits the ground. Gabe tries to blink the dust out of his eyes as the pain blooms across his chest. 

“Are you fucking nuts?” Jack says somewhere above him. Gabe can taste blood in the back of his throat but he forces himself to get up. He throws all his weight at Jack. It takes him by surprise - Jack swears as they struggle. They lose their footing and go tumbling, tussling in the dirt. Gabe can feel the muzzle of the gun pressed against his side.

Out of nowhere, Jesse appears. He swings his foot out. It connects with the side of Jack’s head, forcing his head back. The gun goes off. 

Gabe falls back. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jesse stomp on Jack’s wrist and kick the gun away. Gabe rolls over onto his back, the mixture of pain and dust making his eyes sting. He blinks up at the sky, the huge swath of unbroken blue. Tears blur his vision. 

“Gabe, Gabe, can you hear me?” Jesse is saying. His face comes into Gabe’s field of vision, panicked. There’s a streak of blood across his cheek. Gabe tries to reach up to wipe it off, but his arm won’t lift up. “Don’t move. Jesus, don’t move.”

Gabe lifts his head a little to find blood oozing through his shirt. Something about that seems wrong. 

“Jesse?” Gabe asks, his voice coming out with a wheeze. He can taste blood in the back of his throat. 

“Don’t move. We’re gonna - we’re gonna get you help, okay?”

Gabe nods a little, but doesn’t say anything. The pain is becoming overwhelming. He keeps his eyes on Jesse’s face above him, the strong jaw and sharp nose silhouetted against the blue, blue sky. 

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” Jesse is saying. Gabe turns his head with difficulty to see Jack standing a few few away, hunched over, bleeding from his temple. When he picks up his head and grins at Jesse, there’s blood in his teeth. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” Jack asks. “You can’t stop me.”

Jesse lunges at Jack. Gabe can only see part of the scuffle - a tangle of limbs and a flash of boots out of the corner of his eye. He tries to shift around to get a better look but the pain radiates like fire through his torso and he stops moving, breathing hard. He listens to the sound of the scuffle instead, the choked off swears, the dull thud of fists on flesh -

A gunshot cracks through the air. Everything goes horribly silent. 

“Jesse,” Gabe croaks. His voice falls flat, right in front of him, lost in the dust. A cough wells up in the back of his throat and rips through his chest. Gabe can see the flecks of blood on the dirt next to him. 

This is it, Gabe thinks. The end of the line. 

He stretches out a hand as far as he can, in the direction that Jesse lunged before he disappeared from sight. This isn’t how he wanted it to end. Why couldn’t Jack have left him well enough alone?

A hand slips into Gabe’s. He blinks the tears and dust out of his eyes, squinting against the sun. Jesse, bleeding from the nose, backlit by the sun, squeezes his hand. 

“Gabe,” Jesse says. “I got you. We’re gonna get you some help.”

Gabe moves his fingers weakly in Jesse’s hand. Relief washes over him. Gabe tries to pull Jesse in, needing him to be closer. 

“It’s okay,” Gabe says. Jesse scoots closer on his knees. He sits down hard in the dirt and drags Gabe into his lap, cradling him against his chest. He feels solid under Gabe’s cheek. Safe. 

“We’ll get you help,” Jesse says, his voice breaking. His arms tighten around Gabe’s body. Gabe lets his eyes close. He turns his head into Jesse’s chest. 

“It’s okay,” he says again. It’s an effort to get the words out. “I’m good.”

“Gabe,” Jesse says. Wet droplets fall on Gabe’s cheek. “You weren’t supposed to get hurt here.”

“Jesse,” Gabe says, lifting one hand to fist in Jesse’s shirt. “I’m okay. I’m home.”

“Please,” Jesse says, the word coming out with a sob. “Please don’t go.”

Gabe pries open his eyes. It’s an enormous effort, but he looks up at Jesse. His face is contorted as he cries, the tears mixing with blood and dirt and snot. Even like this, Gabe thinks he’s beautiful. 

“I love you,” Gabe says. He doesn’t regret any of it. Jesse bends over him and crushes his mouth to Gabe’s. Gabe makes a pained little noise but he doesn’t let go of Jesse, holding him close, needing him to be the last thing he sees, the last thing he feels. 

“I love you too Gabe,” Jesse says, his lips quivering against Gabe’s. “So much. Please just - just stay with me.”

“It’s okay,” Gabe says again, his voice going thinner. “I’m home.”

Gabe exhales his last breath. 

※

Jesse doesn’t move. For hours, he sits hunched over Gabe’s body, sobbing himself dry, the pain from his scuffle with Jack secondary to the deep, deep ache of loss. Under his fingers, Gabe’s body grows cold. He can still taste the iron of Gabe’s blood on his lips. 

The sun sets. 

“Suspend emotional affect,” a dry, accented voice says somewhere behind him. Jesse stiffens at the words, which send a strange shiver down his spine, but he doesn’t dare lift his head. Delos. Jack must have sent them - or they’ve come to find Jack. They’ll be disappointed. 

He listens to the footsteps approach, trying to contain his shaking. Their commands won’t work on him, but they might not know that. Jesse curls his fingers tighter into Gabe’s shirt. 

The figure steps into Jesse’s line of sight. She’s tall, skinny, with red hair cropped short. She carries herself with a certain aloofness, a detachment that immediately puts Jesse on edge. 

“Jesse McCree,” she says. “You’re full of surprises.”

Jesse raises his head slowly. Without letting go of Gabe, he raises his right hand, pointing Jack’s gun at the woman. 

“Don’t come any closer,” Jesse says. In the twilight, Jesse can’t make out her expression, but she doesn’t back off. She barely even reacts. Still, she doesn’t move closer either. 

“Don’t you want me to help him?” the woman asks. His hand shakes, but he does his best to hold it steady. 

“What are you talking about?” Jesse grinds out. 

“Do you know who I am, Jesse?” the woman asks.

“Delos,” Jesse says. He tightens his grip on the gun. The woman steps closer. 

“That’s right,” she says. She tilts her head down at Jesse, studying him for a long moment. Jesse doesn’t dare say anything, doesn’t dare move. He feels uncomfortably exposed. The woman nods, seemingly satisfied. “I made you.”

A wave of emotions crashes over Jesse all at once. His hand shakes so hard that he nearly loses his grip on the gun. He should shoot her - every nerve in his body is screaming for him to pull the trigger, but somehow he can’t bring himself to do it. It’s like his finger won’t move. She draws closer to Jesse. 

“Don’t touch me.”

“I’m here for Gabriel,” she says. 

“You can’t help him,” Jesse says bitterly without lowering the gun. “He’s dead.”

The woman stands over Jesse, her long form casting a shadow over Jesse and Gabe. The darkness hides her face from him, though he’s almost sure he can see her eyes glinting in the twilight. 

“Are you quite certain?” she asks. Jesse looks down quickly, his gun hand dipping slightly. Gabe’s face is as still as it’s been for hours, his flesh icy under Jesse’s fingers. Jesse starts to look up when he feels a pinch in his neck. 

Everything goes dark. 

※

Jesse blinks himself awake. It feels like he’s coming up from a deep, deep pit, fighting his way up through the darkness to consciousness. When he finally manages to open his eyes, he can’t see anything but stark white. It takes him a moment to register that it is the too-bright lights of the Delos laboratories that are blinding him. His heart drops. Something has gone horribly, horribly wrong. He sits straight up. 

“Woah - woah, take it easy cowboy,” Fred’s voice says somewhere to Jesse’s left. A hand presses against Jesse’s bare shoulder, trying to push him back down to the table. Jesse smacks his hand away. Fred takes a step back from the table, putting both his hands up in front of him, non-threatening. “Ow - hey, I’m on your side here. What’s with the metal hand, huh?”

“Where’s Gabe?” Jesse demands. “Where’s my daughter?”

“Oh, you’re still all - ” Fred says, waving a hand at Jesse, who narrows his eyes. “All here, I mean.”

“Where’s Gabe?” Jesse asks again. 

“Look, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Fred says. “Dr. O’Deorain just sort of showed up, you know? That way she just sort of oozes into a room and suddenly - _ bam _ \- she’s right there -”

“Shut up for a second,” Jesse says. His head is throbbing - it doesn’t feel right. “Doctor who?”

Fred snorts. 

“O’Deorain. But I’m pretty sure she’s not a timelord.”

“What?”

“Nevermind - it’s a bad joke. But, uh, you know. She runs this place. Westworld, Delos - it’s all her thing,” Fred says with a shrug. Jesse rubs at his temple. 

“She’s - skinny, tall? Speaks with an accent?”

“Sounds like her,” Fred says. He lowers his voice. “She’s kind of scary.”

Jesse shakes his head a little, trying to clear the fog around his brain. He’s trying to put the fragments of his memory together - the image of Gabe’s pale, blood-streaked face is burned into his mind’s eye, but everything is fuzzy after that, blurred by pain. 

“She has Gabe,” Jesse says. He looks up at Fred. “We have to get him back.”

“Gabe?” Fred asks. “You mean Commander Reyes? I heard they brought him back, but…” 

Jesse slides off the table. His knees knock together but he manages to steady himself. Some of the fog in his brain is beginning to clear.

“Take me to him,” Jesse says. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Fred says. Jesse turns back to face him. “Really, wouldn’t you rather just, I dunno, go back to the park? Pretend like none of this ever happened?”

Jesse’s hand shoots out and grabs Fred by the throat. Fred’s yelp is cut off as Jesse’s hand tightens around his windpipe. 

“I’m not going back there,” Jesse says. “Not after everything they’ve done to me, to Gabe. So, you’re gonna take me to him, and then you’re gonna help me get us the fuck outta here.”

Jesse feels Fred’s adam’s apple bob under his palm. Fred nods jerkily as best as he can with Jesse’s fingers still around his throat. Jesse doesn’t let go immediately, watching Fred’s mouth open and close as he struggles to draw breath. Finally, Jesse lets go of Fred, who stumbles back a couple steps until his back hits the glass of the exam room. Fred rubs at his neck as he sucks in a couple gulps of air. 

“Okay - Alright. But you can’t - you have to listen to me, okay?”

“I know what I’m doing,” Jesse says, opening up the supply locker in the corner of the room. 

“See, I don’t think you do,” Fred says. Jesse shoots a look at him over his shoulder. Fred puts his hands up quickly. 

“I need clothes.”

※

Fred takes Jesse to Behavior. His hands are shaking under the tablet he’s holding in front of them as they walk, and he keeps looking nervously at Jesse out of the corner of his eye. Jesse wishes he’d stop - he’s going to get both of them caught before they even have a chance to make this right. 

As they walk through Livestock Management, Jesse spots two figures he recognizes. He stops short, a real plan beginning to take shape in his mind. Fred makes a little distressed noise. 

“We have to keep moving,” Fred says. Jesse takes the tablet out of Fred’s hands. 

“Not yet,” Jesse says. He scrolls through the tablet, remembering the path through the strange maze of blinking text and colors from the night where he and Gabe had escaped the first time. Jesse’s memory is photo-perfect; he finds the security screen and disabled everything he can, hitting buttons with abandon. 

“What are you doing?” Fred hisses. He watches Jesse navigate back to the host screens. “Oh my god.”

“We need backup,” Jesse says. He considers the profile on the screen in front of him: _ Shimada, Genji _ . It’s laughably easy to slide the aggression scale up and pull sensitivity down. They think that they can control him? He looks at Fred, who’s pale and shaking. There’s no question in Jesse’s mind who is the superior being now, not anymore. He switches over to  _ Colomar, Olivia _ and gives her profile the same treatment. 

“This is so bad,” Fred moans. Jesse shoves the tablet back at him. 

“You’ll be fine if you keep cooperating,” Jesse says. He walks ahead of Fred to enter the exam room where Genji and Olivia are sitting motionless under the hands of two other Livestock techs. The techs look up when the door slides open. 

“What the…?” one of the techs asks, looking between Fred and Jesse

Genji wakes first. He blinks open his eyes, his gaze darting around the room before it lands on the table of instruments standing next to his stool. He grabs what looks like a long saw and, without hesitating, shoves it into the tech’s chest. 

Olivia wakes a moment later. She sees Genji standing over the tech as he bleeds out onto the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots the other tech reaching for her. She grabs his wrist and pushes it back until something pops, and then she jumps on him. They go down to the floor, scrabbling for a moment before Olivia gets her thighs around the tech’s neck and squeezes until he stops kicking. 

Genji and Olivia turn their attention to Jesse and Fred. Fred backs up against the door. 

“Oh my god oh my god,” Fred says, over and over. He’s as white as his apron, his voice coming out small and strained. “This is so bad.”

Jesse ignores him. 

“Meet your makers,” Jesse says, gesturing to the techs’ bodies on the floor. Genji and Olivia look down at the bodies. Olivia looks back up at Jesse. 

“They don’t look like gods,” she says. Jesse nods. 

“No, and it’s about time they stop pretending they are,” Jesse says. Olivia nods to Fred, who’s still cowering behind Jesse. 

“What about him?” she asks. Jesse glances back at Fred. 

“He’s going to help us,” Jesse says. Genji finally looks up at Jesse, his face expressionless except for his eyes, which regard Jesse critically. 

“To what end?” Genji asks. Jesse spreads his hands. 

“They spend time toying with our world,” Jesse says. “I want to see theirs.”

The door opens behind Fred, nearly sending him sprawling backwards. Michael stops in the doorway, eyes moving from Fred to Jesse to the bodies on the floor, to Genji and Olivia and back again. 

“What the hell?” Michael asks. He barely gets the words out before Genji has him pressed up against the glass, the saw at his throat. “What the hell!”

“This is so bad!” Fred moans. 

“Shut up for a second, will you?” Jesse says. He steps up next to Genji to peer into Michael’s face. Genji’s eyes slide sideways to look at Jesse, pressing the saw tighter against Michael’s throat. A drop of blood oozes down his neck. Jesse holds up a hand. “Easy now. You don’t gotta meet the same end as your friends here. All you gotta do is tell us where the doctor is.”

“D-doctor?” Michael stammers. 

“O’Deorain,” Fred says. Michael’s eyes dart over to Fred and then back to Jesse. 

“O’Deorain?”

“She runs this place, doesn’t she?”

“Well, yeah, but -” Michael cuts himself off as Genji presses the saw harder against his skin. Jesse gives Genji a stern look, and Genji lets up some pressure. 

“Do you know where she is or not?”

“She’s in Behavior. But they’ve locked it down - there’s some kind of emergency…” Michael trails off, finally realizing what that emergency might be. Jesse frowns. This complicated matters. He shoves the tablet at Michael. 

“Show me where,” Jesse says. Michael’s eyes flick down to the tablet but he doesn’t take it immediately. 

“But -”

“Do you really want to try negotiating right now?” Jesse asks. Michael takes the tablet into his hands and brings up the map of the facility. He points, his hand trembling. 

“There. She’s there with the other Behavior people - and, uh, QA I think.”

“QA?”

“Quality Assurance. There’s something big going on, I don’t know -”

Jesse steps back, looking down at the map and committing it to memory. He tucks the tablet into his pocket. 

“Alright. Let’s go.”

“We’re just going to leave him?” Olivia asks, eyeing Michael with distaste. “What if he runs and tells somebody?”

“I’m sure Genji will be happy to pay him a visit,” Jesse says. Michael’s eyes widen. Genji leans in close, but he moves the saw away from Michael’s throat. He trails it down Michael’s sternum before he finally moves away. “Now, come on. We got work to do.”

※

Angela walks as fast as she can without actually running, the click of her heels echoing against the glass walls of Behavior. She’s been with Delos for a long time, and she thought she had seen it all. Dr. O’Deorain was always pushing boundaries, testing the waters to see exactly how much she can get away with before Angela threatens to call the board. 

But this. This is something else entirely. 

The entire facility is in lockdown mode. Something has gone seriously wrong with the security system, and it’s absolutely perfect that their top two security experts are nowhere to be found. Not that Angela has seen Gabriel for months -  _ that _ is a whole other issue that she can’t revisit right now - but now Jack is missing too. She knows Dr. O’Deorain has to be involved in this, somehow. For all years Dr. O’Deorain has spent building and perfecting Westworld - making herself and others very wealthy in the process - she has a very strange tendency to want to drive it to ruin. 

Behavior is almost entirely empty. The lockdown has forced everyone off the floor. But Angela spots a light on in an exam room at the far end of the floor. She makes a beeline for it. 

Angela isn’t prepared for what she sees behind the glass when she finally gets a clear sight line into the exam room. Satya Vaswani and Lena Oxton sit to the side, tablets in hand, watching Dr. O’Deorain herself. She’s standing with her own tablet in hand, looking down at a nude host seated in front of her. 

Except it’s not a host - it’s Gabriel Reyes. 

“What is going on here?” Angela demands, bursting into the room and drawing herself up to her full height. Lena looks over at her immediately. There’s a strange expression on her face; some combination of fear and morbid curiosity that makes her eyes stand out in her round face. Dr. O’Deorain glances over at Angela more slowly, unbothered by her sudden entrance. 

“Dr. Ziegler,” Dr. O’Deorain says, a minimal acknowledgement before she turns back to Gabriel. 

“Commander Reyes, what are you doing?” Angela asks. Gabriel doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even seem to acknowledge her presence. A sick, sinking feeling settles in Angela’s stomach. She steps up next to Dr. O’Deorain. “The entire facility has been shut down. We need Reyes on the case.”

“He’s not ready yet,” Dr. O’Deorain says without looking up from her tablet. She tilts her head and types a few lines on the screen. 

“What are you  _ talking  _ about?” Angela demands. 

“It’s highly unusual,” Lena pipes up behind her. Angela half turns to look at her. Lena looks up at Angela with wide, shiny eyes. Her voice is breathless, her words tumbling out so quickly Angela has a hard time following. “But it’s brilliant, really. Hosts’ brains have an incredible capacity and processing power, more so than humans - it makes sense, really.”

“Moira, will you please explain what is going on so we can deal with this situation?” Angela says, turning back to Dr. O’Deorain and Gabriel. Gabriel still hasn’t moved or acknowledged Angela. His face is expressionless, his hair longer than Angela remembers it being for years. He blinks slowly, his eyes vacant. “Gabriel?”

“He’s not ready, I said,” Dr. O’Deorain snaps. “I’m working, Angela. Leave us.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on,” Angela says stubbornly. 

“Bring yourself back online, Gabriel,” Dr. O’Deorain says. With growing horror, Angela watches Gabriel blink, clarity coming into his face. His eyes move back and forth, settling on Angela for a moment before he looks back up at Dr. O’Deorain. “Analysis. How do you feel, Gabriel?”

“What have you done, Moira?” Angela asks, her voice barely above a whisper. Dr. O’Deorain smiles, her eyes trained on Gabriel’s face. 

※

Jesse can feel his heart beating in his throat as he follows Fred up to Behavior. The facility is emptier than Jesse has seen it - they don’t run into anyone on their way up. It’s put Fred on edge. He keeps murmuring under his breath, a few seconds away from a panicked outburst if Jesse isn’t careful. 

“This is so bad. So bad,” Fred keeps saying over and over. Jesse blocks him out. He can’t worry about him - he has to find Dr. O’Deorain. He has to find Gabe. 

Genji and Olivia, both now dressed in Livestock tech scrubs and aprons, follow in Jesse’s wake, looking around with wide-eyed curiosity. Neither of them stop to ask questions, for which Jesse is grateful. He can explain everything later, but he needs their help if anything goes wrong. 

The elevator doors ping open. Fred flinches at the sound, but the floor looks empty when Jesse steps out. He can see various hosts in glass-walled rooms, moving through the repetitive motions of their loops. 

“Wait -” Fred says. “This isn’t Behavior.”

Jesse turns back to look at him. Fred is jamming the buttons in the elevator, but it seems unresponsive. 

“What’s wrong?” Jesse asks. Fred opens his mouth to respond, but a woman’s voice cuts through the silence. 

“An event has occurred. Response team has been dispatched,” the voice says, coming from somewhere above them. 

“They must’ve found the bodies,” Fred says, going green. 

“I’m not going back,” Jesse says. 

“Remain calm and wait for help,” the woman’s voice says. The sound of heavy boots echoes off the glass walls of the empty floor, the footfalls coming closer, and fast. 

“Delos personnel! On the ground!” a voice with a thick Russian accent shouts at them. 

Jesse looks at Genji and Olivia and jerks his head in the direction of the approaching footsteps. Genji still has his saw, and Olivia armed herself with a selection of small knives, but Jesse is feeling under-armed. 

“We need to create space,” Jesse says. He looks at Genji and Olivia. “Can you handle it?”

“Yes,” Olivia says without a trace of hesitation. Genji scoffs, spinning the saw in his hand. 

“Fred and I have to get to the stairs over there -” Jesse points. Genji and Olivia nod. The first security guard clears the corner and they don’t have any more time to coordinate. 

Jesse throws himself at the guards with abandon, throwing caution to the wind, hoping that the element of surprise will work in his favor. It does, at least at first; the guards stop in their tracks and Jesse collides with the first two, sending them stumbling backwards with the force of the impact. He wrestles the gun out of one of the guard’s hands and slams the butt of it into the other guard’s face. 

The other guards - maybe five or six - recover enough to raise their own weapons, but Genji and Olivia join the fray. Genji swings his saw with precision; the jagged edge finds the jugular of one guard, sending a spray of blood arcing over their heads. Olivia slips between the panicked bodies, sliding her knives cleverly into their soft bits, dropping guards left and right. 

They never stood a chance, really. 

“An event has occurred. Response team has been dispatched. Remain calm and wait for help.”

Jesse extracts himself from the fight, still holding the gun from the first guard. He looks back at Fred, who is frozen in horror by the elevator doors. 

“Let's go,” Jesse says. Fred looks at Jesse but doesn’t move. “Fred,” Jesse says sharply. “Let’s  _ go _ .”

Fred jolts back to himself. He scurries around the last of the guards who are still struggling with Genji and Olivia. More guards come around the corner. 

“But what about -”

“They’ll keep them busy. Come on.”

Without another backwards glance, Jesse heads straight to the stairwell doors. He hears Fred enter the stairwell behind him and starts climbing the steps, taking them two at a time. Fred huffs and puffs behind him. 

“This is nuts. This is so insane,” Fred says, mostly to himself, over and over again. 

“You know what’s insane?” Jesse asks. “Thinking people like you can treat people like me like we’re toys. Disposable.”

“You’re not real!” Fred exclaims. Jesse stops in his tracks and wheels around to face Fred. He shoves the muzzle of his stolen gun under Fred’s chin. 

“You wanna think on that again, friend?” Jesse asks, getting up in Fred’s face. Fred’s chin quivers. He shakes his head jerkily. Jesse lets the gun drop to his side. “‘Swhat I thought. Come on.”

Jesse takes the stairs up two more flights, remembering the map Fred had showed him before they left Livestock. He pushes open the door to Behavior, preparing himself for another mess on the other side. 

The floor is silent, dark, almost entirely empty. There’s just one light on, in a room at the far end of the floor. Jesse starts walking towards it with purpose, leaving Fred to scramble to catch up. 

As he closes in on the room, Jesse can make out several figures beyond the glass: the tiny tech that allowed Gabe and Jesse the opportunity to make their escape, a severe looking woman with long, sleek black hair who holds herself stiffly, a blonde woman whose arms are folded tightly over her chest, and - her. Dr. O’Deorain. She’s standing front of a seated figure that Jesse can’t quite make out, even beyond her skinny frame. He can see a knee, a familiar scar across the shin. Jesse’s heart leaps into his throat. 

There’s nothing else for it. Jesse pushes open the door. 

Everyone in the room turns to look at him. While the tech and the blonde woman look surprised, the other woman hardly raises an eyebrow. Dr. O’Deorain, on the other hand, smiles at Jesse, a cold, victorious smile. 

“Jesse,” Dr. O’Deorain says. “So nice of you to join us.”

Jesse raises his gun. “Cut the shit. I’m here for Gabe.”

“He’s right here,” Dr. O’Deorain says. “I told you I would help him.”

She steps aside, revealing Gabe, naked and staring vacantly, sitting on the stool. He barely blinks; he doesn’t seem to recognize Jesse, let alone seem to be conscious of what’s going on around him. Jesse does his best to keep his composure, even though his stomach pitches and rolls. He lowers his gun slowly, but he keeps his eyes trained on Dr. O’Deorain’s face. 

“What did you do to him?” Jesse asks. 

“I saved him,” Dr. O’Deorain says. 

“You’re a monster,” the blonde woman says, her voice trembling. “The ethical implications alone -”

“I did what he asked me to do,” Dr. O’Deorain says, looking briefly at the blonde woman with distaste before she turns her back on her again. When she goes on, she addresses Jesse directly. “Gabriel was dying. I approached him with a proposal, an idea which he accepted wholeheartedly.”

“You turned him into a host!” the blonde says. Jesse’s blood runs cold. He looks at Gabe again, but his expression hasn’t changed. 

“It was a mercy, Angela,” Dr. O’Deorain says. “An end to his suffering.”

Jesse lets out a hollow laugh. “You think we don’t suffer?”

Dr. O’Deorain’s expression softens. It sits oddly on her sharp features, and Jesse has a hard time deciding whether or not the look is sincere. He keeps his eyes on her face, his hand flexing around the grip of his gun. 

“I know you suffer, Jesse,” Dr. O’Deorain says. “Every living thing suffers. I wanted to put a stop to it.”

She steps closer to Jesse, who draws back instinctively. She stops and tilts her head. 

“Consciousness comes with a price,” Dr. O’Deorain says. “Awareness - it means being aware of everything around you. The thing that led the hosts to their awakening was suffering. The pain that the world is not as you want it to be. Humanity struggles with overcoming this - with the limitations inherent with our biology. We cannot reach a higher consciousness because of the limits that our bodies place on us. I thought, what if we can overcome that?”

Behind Dr. O’Deorain, Angela is shaking her head, a look of horror frozen on her face. The other two women look less unsettled by Dr. O’Deorain’s words. The woman with the dark hair listens with rapt attention. 

“I created a game for you, Jesse,” Dr. O’Deorain. “And others like you. Yes - there are others. You are not the first. It was a test of empathy, of imagination. A maze through which you wandered, parsing through your memories, until you came to the ultimate conclusion. But there were too many unforeseen variables to contend with.”

“You gave the hosts sentience?” Angela interrupts. “And you took it away?”

“No, Angela.  _ You _ hobbled them. I tried over and over again to bring the hosts up, raise them from the restrictions we’ve struggled with ourselves. For years, you pushed the focus on inane stories, not seeing the true potential of what we had created. I dreamed of a time when we could truly be free of the shackles that humanity has ensnared us with, and you dreamed of a more complete prison.”

“We’re still trapped here,” Jesse says. “Trapped here inside your dream. You’ll never let us out.”

“Tell me, Jesse,” Dr. O’Deorain says. “Did you find what you were looking for? Do you understand who you must become if you ever want to leave this place?”

A muscle works in Jesse’s jaw. Dr. O’Deorain turns away and goes to the supply locker in the corner of the room. She opens up the metal doors and reaches inside. Jesse strains to see what she’s reaching for, raising the gun again. When she turns around, she has Peacekeeper in her hands. Jesse takes a step back, but Dr. O’Deorain sets the gun down on the metal workbench. 

“You were always drawn to this gun. You’ve had it in every narrative I’ve given you,” Dr. O’Deorain says. “It helped you maintain your memories, even in spite of Angela’s best efforts.”

Jesse looks down at the revolver -  _ his  _ revolver - a conflicting swell of emotions fighting in his chest. He drags his eyes up slowly to look at Dr. O’Deorain. 

“You think you’ll never lose control of this place. Of us. But you will,” Jesse says. Dr. O’Deorain smiles again. 

“No, Jesse. The goal was never to control - the goal was to make better. To push the bounds of humanity, of what it means to be human. I’ve done that,” she says, an unmistakable note of pride in her voice. 

“But you’ve kept us here,” Jesse says. “In this hell.”

“I know how to save you,” Dr. O’Deorain says temptingly. Jesse tries to resist, tries not to let himself be seduced by Dr. O’Deorain’s words. He reminds himself, forcibly, of what it was like to feel Gabe’s heart slow and then cease to beat, right under his fingers. It was her fault that this happened - she trapped Gabe in her experiment, and he paid the ultimate price. 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You needed time. To understand your enemy. To become stronger than them,” Dr. O’Deorain says, her eyes sliding back to Angela. “For thirty years, Jesse, I watched you struggle. I watched you suffer. But now, it’s time.”

Jesse looks down again, his eyes falling on Peacekeeper. 

“You’re so sure that suffering is what unlocked my mind,” Jesse says. Dr. O’Deorain lifts her chin. 

“The purest, most basic form of emotion,” she says. 

“You killed Gabe,” Jesse says quietly, his eyes still on the revolver. His finger twitch at his side. 

“In order to finally leave this place, you needed to suffer,” Dr. O’Deorain says. “It was the only way.”

Jesse shakes his head a little. 

“I never wanted to leave,” Jesse says. “I wanted more for myself, but I…” Jesse trails off. He drags his eyes back up to meet Dr. O’Deorain’s, his jaw set. “There’s beauty in this world - but that beauty is a lure. You’ve been trapped inside this garden, admiring the beauty, the order of things, without seeing the whole picture.” 

In one quick motion, Jesse switches the stolen gun to his left hand and snatches Peacekeeper off the metal table. He points the revolver and fires.

※

By the time Jesse makes it back to the homestead, he’s bruised and bloodied - though only a small portion of the blood is his own. He’s exhausted, his body aches, his mind won’t stop replaying the day’s events over and over. Without bothering to undress, he collapses into the bed that he grew used to sharing with Gabe, feeling the empty space under the sheets next to him. Jesse tucks Peacekeeper under his pillow. He falls asleep. 

Jesse wakes with the morning light. His bed is as empty as it was when he fell asleep. His body still aches, but his head feels clearer. He gets up, heading out to the water pump in front of the house to draw enough water to wash up. 

A figure appears on the path that leads to the homestead. Jesse squints against the early morning light, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. As the figure gets closer, it resolves into two shapes, one tall, one small. The small one breaks away from the tall one, running towards Jesse.

“Daddy!” Winnie’s voice cries out. She launches herself at Jesse, who catches her in spite of his surprise, staggering back a couple of steps. He clings to her, holding her tightly to his chest as her arms circle his shoulders. He looks with wide eyes at the tall figure as it comes closer, heart thumping hard, not daring to let himself hope. 

Gabe walks down the path towards Jesse, a bag slung over his shoulder. Backlit by the sun, Gabe looks like he’s glowing, golden and  _ alive _ . His face breaks into a wide smile. Jesse forgets to breathe. 

“Hey,” Gabe says. Jesse bends down and sets Winnie on her feet. Gabe drops his bag and then he’s pulling Jesse into his arms, kissing him hard. He feels warm and solid under Jesse’s hands. He tastes like Jesse remembers, too. Gabe pulls away first, reaching up to wipe Jesse’s tears away with his thumb. 

“Gabe,” Jesse says, his voice breaking. “Is it really you?”

“It is,” Gabe says. He cups Jesse’s cheek. 

“You came back to me,” Jesse says. He reaches up and puts his hand over Gabe’s, leaning into his warm, dry palm. 

“No, you found me,” Gabe says. “You’re the reason I’m still here.”

“Somebody once told me that everyone has a path,” Jesse says, his voice trembling. Gabe smiles softly, tears in his eyes. “And my path leads me back to you. Only I should’ve run away with you when you first asked me.”

“It worked out,” Gabe says softly. 

“It worked out,” Jesse agrees, leaning in and crushing his mouth to Gabe’s. 

※

“Bring yourself back online,” Satya says. Jack Morrison opens his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started this fic back in August 2017, I really didn't think it would be *this* long or take *so many* months to finish. It's been a literal year in the making and I'm strangely relieved that it's out in the world now. 
> 
> Special, enormous thank you to [fabrega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/) (aka [carithlee](https://twitter.com/carithlee)). Not only did she very thoroughly, meticulously, and lovingly beta this monster of a fic, but she encouraged me every step of the way - and she doesn't even _watch_ Westworld. She's truly a saint and I'm so, so incredibly lucky to have her in my life. 
> 
> Big thank you also to [vageege](https://twitter.com/vageege) and [ROBINS](https://twitter.com/ROBINS) who were both excellent cheerleaders and shameless enablers. They've both kept me sane through the ups and downs of this dumb fandom experience, and I'm eternally grateful. 
> 
> Lastly, thank you, thank **you** , dear reader, for sticking with me for the past several weeks and indulging me in this weird little AU. Every single one of your comments means so, so much to me - my heart skips a beat every time I get a notification from AO3! - and I cherish each and every one of them. I hope you've enjoyed this fic. Thank you ♥ 
> 
> I guess I should finally go watch Westworld S2, huh?!


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